


On Circuit

by spockalicious



Category: Actor RPF, Pinto - Fandom, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con References, Sharps, Violence, drug induced psychotic episodes, h/c, implied slavery, implied starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 82,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockalicious/pseuds/spockalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sci-fi Thriller</p><p>In an AU future, where global competitive economy is eradicated and replaced by a single conglomerate called Prios Corps, society has divided into extremes of poverty and opulence.</p><p>Chris is a member of the social elite known as Users and pursues a meaningless life indulging his addiction to alcohol and Tabs; barbiturates and hallucinogens which are substitutes for real life experiences, emotions, dietary supplements, sleep aids, sexual enhancers and mood definers.</p><p>On a whim, Chris purchases the latest entertainment and social networking system and encounters ‘Zee’, a member of the poverty stricken underclass known as Trash.</p><p>Chris and Zee begin a tentative affair, unaware of the repercussions it will have for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : Quite bleak at times. Inspired in part by ZQ’s post (see master post on LJ at spockalicious for the link)  
> A/N : Feedback feeds the muse, feel free to comment and if you see any glaring errors or plot holes, let me know.

It was the first day of the month, and every first day of the month, was New Year Theme Night at The Barney Club. 

Situated in a prime position in the mid city area, the club’s pumping music vibrated through the walls and spilled out into the adjacent arcade. People queued outside bathed in neon light from advert screens that bombarded the chattering crowds with a stream of promotional noise on the packed terrazzo walkways. Beyond the arcade’s protective glass shell air cars flew overhead and the tall slivers of High Towers, home to the most affluent of society, rose until they disappeared from view into the night sky.

Inside the club, Chris squeezed between two people and pushed his elbows into tightly packed glasses choking the bar. Waving his flex card expectantly, he caught the eye of a sweaty bartender who leant close, but not too close.

Chris shouted his order just as the noise in the club peaked. The next act took to the podium and the several Musical Tabs Chris had dropped earlier amplified the arabesque twag which started playing. The bartender’s lips moved but Chris couldn’t make out what was said. 

Chris cupped an ear with a hand and leant further across the bar. “What? I can’t hear you.”

“You have to buy a drink if you want a Tab,” shouted the bartender leaning closer. 

A collective ‘ooo’ went up from the crowd followed by laughter and the lighting in the club turned bright blue. 

Chris grabbed an empty glass in front of him and waved it under the bartender’s nose. “I’ll have another one of these. And a Red,” he shouted.

The bartender grabbed the innocuous glass out of Chris’ hand promptly sniffing it to identify whatever drink it had contained. Leaving Chris standing impatiently he disappeared wandering off along the bar. 

Limp applause went up from the crowd and Chris glanced over his shoulder towards the podium. Through a sea of bobbing heads he caught a glimpse of half naked men and women doing something with their legs in the air but he hadn’t dropped enough Communal Tabs to really be able to participate in the entertainment. Strobes started flickering and the closely packed crowd responded by surging toward the podium. 

A tap on Chris’ shoulder brought him round. The bartender was back with a half filled glass in one hand that he extended toward Chris. 

“Where’s my Tab?” shouted Chris and grabbed the drink. The bartender mouthed ‘pay first’ in what appeared to be slow motion under the flickering strobe lights. 

Chris set his drink down and waved his flex card across the bar. “As if I would even be in the fucking dump if I didn’t have the credits,” he muttered.

It took only a second for the transaction to complete and Chris snatched back his flex card when offered. Finally, and at long last, the bartender handed over the Tab, a small square of flat plastic with a single word written on it - RED. 

Chris turned his back on the bartender, ignored his drink and leant against the bar. The strobe intensity increased and the crowd surged again. People on either side of Chris began conducting a shouted conversation around him and he carefully thumbed the edge of the Tab packet and peeled it open. He gazed down at the tiny dot that flickered in and out of existence under the strobe lighting, and savored a moment of anticipation. Feeling the threatening squeeze of bodies around him he quickly licked the Tab off the surface of its wrapper and tasted a familiar zest on his tongue. 

The Tab’s adverts came first, annoying but all part of the deal, and Chris pressed himself against the bar for support as they ran.

“Welcome the experience of a lifetime,” chimed an announcer’s voice in Chris’ head. Incidental music intro followed. An image of a smiling airbrushed woman suggestively extending her tongue and taking a Red danced briefly on the edge of Chris’ consciousness. He closed his eyes and the hum of tinny arabesque music and nearby bar conversation faded in and out as the Red intro continued. 

“Red, brought to you by Prios Corps,” crooned the intro announcer’s voice. “The people you can trust.” 

Chris smiled, felt someone shove him from the side and heard a glass smash. 

“Giving you a safe time, every time,” said the announcer. 

Chris hummed along to the jingle that played afterward. 

“Rejuvenate. Elevate. Desire. Rrrrrrrrrred!!”

Chris’ feet told him the floor had dissolved and then the Red’s first kick ground him. Snippets of bar conversation floated around him and he watched the dancing flashes from club strobes behind closed eyes.

The Red’s second kick a few seconds later brought him out in a sweat and made his paper clothes cling to his skin. He told himself the unpleasant part it would be over soon enough and it would all be worth it. It was always worth it. Red was expensive but the best Tab money could buy. He could easily afford it, and what he wanted most was what many considered to be the unfortunate side effect; the remainder of the evening wouldn’t even register as memory. 

Chris’ mouth went dry and then a warm rush flooded through him. The Tab had dropped and he was finally up and on top. He opened his eyes and took a look around. The Red made everything appear in slow motion and exquisite fine detail as the strobe lights pulsed on and off. He pushed confidently away from the bar crunching broken glass under foot and noticed as he grabbed his drink as a quick afterthought, he appeared slow and graceful. 

Heading through the crowd he was aware of the push of Communal in everyone’s veins but Red spared the invasiveness that particular Tab gave which often left him smothered and claustrophobic. He veered close to the podium to take a look at the floor show and stood blatantly admiring the sinuous writhing of muscular shoulders on the male dancers until one of the women in the act loomed in front of him. The woman’s skin glowed from luminous spray under the strobe lights, and the Red flooded Chris’ system with a false hormone rush.

Chris covered his face with a hand. “Fuck.”

“Great isn’t she?” 

The voice in Chris’ ear and the heavy sensation of an arm over his shoulder brought him momentarily face to face with shadows. A flash of slow motion strobe let him pick out dark hair and the familiar grin of regular at the club.

Chris laughed. “Urban. You fucking dog.” 

The man dressed in a cheap paper sleeveless suit threw his head back and howled wolf-loud over the noisy crowd. Grappling Chris in a neck hold he threatened to pull him over. “Wow. You remembered my name?” he shouted.

Chris grounded his feet and gurgled a laugh into his glass. Hesitating, he held up a finger. “Wait. Don’t tell me.”

“You’ve forgotten.”

The man’s arm tightened around Chris’ neck pulling him bodily close. 

“Paul,” said Chris. The man’s breath huffed against his face and the rough scruff of a five o’clock shadow rubbed against his own. “No. Wait. Charles.”

“No. Karl. Karl,” came the shout in Chris’ ear. 

The music changed to a rapid tempo that sent the men and women on the podium into a frenzy and the crowd followed suit. Chris was buffeted and spilled his drink over Karl’s dark paper shirt as he was pushed hard from behind. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here before we die,” bellowed Chris.

Karl appeared to hear clearly and nodded in agreement. He pushed through swarming bodies around the podium and Chris followed close on the other man’s heels. Somewhere in between the podium and freedom Chris lost his drink and emerged into a small space at the far end of the bar with his shirt ripped. 

Karl leant heavily against the bar, looked Chris over and burst into laughter. 

“This place is nuts tonight. They’re all freaks, they must be mixing Pink with Communal.” He turned away from Chris and waved a flex card enticing the bartender over. “Two Smackers, and- what do you want Chris?” 

Chris fiddled with the tear in his shirt and smiled coolly. “Nothing. I’ve dropped Red.”

Karl’s brows lifted in unison. “Big spender.” He turned back to the bartender. “Just the two Smackers mate, and a soda.”

Chris rode the effects of the Red as it soothed the sore spot on his ego. “Lucky for you I did,” he said quietly. “Or I’d take you outside and beat the crap out of you for that comment.” Lazily his eyes drifted over Karl’s back as the man leant against the bar watching the bartender wander off. 

Karl looked over his shoulder. “Are you sure you won’t have something to drink mate?” he asked.

Chris shook his head and pushed his arm onto the edge of the bar ignoring moisture soaking through the fine paper sleeve of his shirt. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“Fair enough,” said Karl. “Guess you know you should drink when you’re on that stuff. The downer is harsh.”

The Red reassured and Chris planted a hand on Karl’s shoulder. “I’ve had plenty to drink already today,” he said Chris. He squeezed Karl’s shoulder. “I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.”

Karl shrugged off Chris’ response and held out his flex card to the returning bartender who handed over a drink and Tabs. 

The strobe lights flickered once in crescendo and the crowd gave a round of applause as the bar plunged into dark red light. A thumping beat began and bodies swarmed close to the bar surrounding Chris and Karl in loud conversation.

“So what you been doing? I haven’t seen you in a few,” asked Karl. He held his ground against a shove of bodies and closed the gap between himself and Chris.

Chris relaxed against the bar and felt a rush of Red. It allowed him to ignore the person deliberately pressing hard against his back. “I’ve been around. I went off to Dojo’s for a few days, hung out there. You ever been there?” he asked.

Karl shook his head between licking up his Tabs. 

“It’s good.” Chris continued. “Clean, pretty girls. Just the way you like them. Unfortunately.”

“What?” said Karl. He frowned, reached into his suit and withdrew a personal Tab box. “You want a Private?”

Chris held up a hand. “Don’t need one, I dropped Red remember?”

Karl waggled a finger near his ear, rolled his eyes and opened his Tab box. “I need a Private, I can’t hear what the fuck you’re saying over this noise.” He licked a small white Tab off the end of his finger and pocketed the Tab box again. 

Chris waited a few seconds for Karl’s Private to kick in before continuing to speak. “So er.. yeah, I said you’d really like it, clean. Pretty girls.”

“Pretty girls? Where’s this?”

“Dojo’s.”

Karl laughed and shook his head. “That sweet place up in High Towers? I can’t afford that mate, I’ve only got 400,000 a month coming in.” 

Chris waved his hand dismissively and planted it on Karl’s shoulder. “I’d sign you in as a guest under my flex card, don’t worry about that. You should come. They’ve got really good pool dancers, all clean. The pool itself isn’t Synth either, it’s a real one,” he said.

Karl appeared to shrug off something uncomfortable. “No man. I can’t do that. I don’t want to get a taste for something that’ll leave me starving. I got all I need here. I’m a live within my means kinda guy, you know? There’s plenty of pretty here, look.” Karl gestured limply to the pressing crowd about the bar. Most of the people wore black slash across their eyes, a band of thick spray that was the month’s en vogue fashion style and created a strange anonymous expression. 

Chris found he couldn’t really agree with Karl. 

“That’s fine, but any time you change your mind just let me know,” said Chris. The Red washed away any disappointment at Karl’s rejection. “It’s not a problem. You’d be doing me a favour anyway, I don’t really know anyone at Dojo’s, it would be good to hang out with you there.”

Karl gave Chris a non committal thumbs up and promptly grabbed a woman standing nearby. From the wide smile on her face as she tumbled into Karl’s arms and the persistent bubbly giggle, Chris put his credits on the fact she was heavily upped on Pink. Karl didn’t seem to mind however, the Smackers he’d dropped were making him bold and upping his testosterone enough that the woman didn’t seem to mind either. His hands were soon finding their way under the frills of her paper skirt. 

Conversation drifted on and Karl managed, as always, to gather a crowd of suitably willing women about him. Chris watched from the sidelines, in but not really immersed in the social pool, the Red keeping him slightly above everyone else which he preferred. He began losing his sense of time floating on the warm fuzz of Red in his system and he may have taken another Tab, what that was he wasn’t sure and didn’t care. Someone grabbed him and dragged him off to dance at one point and the event left him sweat soaked and his paper clothes clinging to his body. 

Unconscious of making any decision to follow Karl, Chris somehow found himself in the brash guy’s company with women in abundance and the thump of heavy music from the bar below vibrating through the floor into his feet. Sitting on a mock leather recliner in one of the club’s many lounges he tasted something sticky and sweet courtesy of a woman’s tongue in his mouth when the Red took him to an edge and he pushed her away as his awareness pulled him back. 

The Red then overpowered him and pulled him into a fuzz of timeless unselfconsciousness. He emerged later looking around the packed lounge and became aware of chatter and focused on it. Karl was next to him with his hands under the frills of a paper skirt belonging to someone Chris couldn’t see sat the other side, and one of the many women lounging around came and draped her legs across Chris and lay down putting her head in Karl’s lap. 

“So are you going to do it then?” Karl shoved Chris hard with an elbow. “Hey I’m talking to you. Come back to us fly boy.”

Chris tried to focus and acknowledged a heavy sensation in his body. “What? What did you say?” he asked.

“Everyone’s doing it,” said the woman who had her head in Karl’s lap. “Are you gonna get it? You should really get it, it’s just so rad. A friend of mine has had it for a week now.” She twirled a finger through her yellow hair and nodded meaningfully at Chris.

“I would’ve thought you had one already,” said Karl. 

Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of the woman with her head in Karl’s lap. “He hasn’t got a clue. Oh my god, what a virgee.”

Karl slapped his hand across the woman’s face and told her to shut up but she kept on laughing. Chris noticed he had a tear in his shirt sleeve and wondered briefly how it had got there. 

“So are you going to get it mate?” asked Karl.

“Oh I don’t know, I’m not sure yet,” said Chris. The woman was right, he hadn’t got a clue what Karl was talking about. He wondered if now would be a good time to drop a Home and leave the club. 

Karl was talking again. “It’s quite cheap. Well you’d be able to afford it with your income no problem. The delivery is really quick. They come and install in a matter of hours and it links directly into your Locator –“

“Has he got one of those?” asked the woman.

“Of course he has. Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Karl slapped the woman on the head again and she laughed. “Anyway,” said Karl nudging Chris again to get his attention. “Like I said they link directly into your Locator so when you make a selection you’ve got like, I dunno, 30 seconds –

“A minute,” chipped the woman.

“Shut up – a minute to have a quick chat and see if you like ‘em, you know, make sure they’re not a complete fuck head. Then if you do like ‘em you just accept and then the clock starts ticking. The payment goes direct and totally anonymous because you put your flex card in the unit, so you don’t have to worry about them turning up on your door and blackmailing you later. Once you’re done they just get back in your Locator and fuck off to wherever the hell they live,” said Karl.

“My friend has had it for a week now,” said the woman. “She thinks it’s totally rad. Like this one day she brought up two and they stayed like for 5 hours. It was a total gang bang.”

“Shut up.”

“So you can get anything you want?” asked Chris vaguely.

“Yeah,” chorused the woman and Karl. 

The woman who owned the frilly skirt Karl hand his hands under leaned around Karl and joined in the conversation. “Anything’s on offer, sweetie,” she said. “You get menus and taste selections and the more you use it the better it gets because it saves your preferences. You can even put favorites on reserve so that if you want to, you can just go direct to them so you don’t have to keep surfing trying to find them again. That costs extra though.”

“He can afford it,” said Karl. “So are you going to get one?”

Chris’ mouth hung open. Everyone burst into hysterical laughter which appeared contagious and Chris suspected everyone had dropped Communal. The Red made Chris join in. 

Karl slithered off the recliner dragging the woman with the yellow hair with him and started crawling on the floor between the low tables giving her a piggy back. Other people in the lounge started joining in until a herd of piggy backers filled the floor and started scrambling over recliners. Chris remained sprawled on the recliner watching the floor show from a distance until he was straddled by Karl’s abandoned frilly skirt. 

“Here.” She brandished a spray pen in front of Chris’ face and then ripped through his paper shirt exposing his chest. “So you remember tomorrow,” she said.

Chris tried to protest between gasps of laughter but failed miserably. Cool moisture from the spray pen touched his skin as the frilly skirt wrote something on his chest.

Chris looked down at illegible black scrawl and tried to wipe his hand across it smudging the letters. “Oh you bitch.”

The woman laughed exposing Pink stained teeth. She grabbed Chris hand and pinned his arm to the back of the recliner. “Don’t worry sweetie, it’ll wear off in a few days.” She grabbed Chris’ face with her other hand leaning in to kiss him.

Chris squirmed and tried to drag his mouth away. He tumbled out of the recliner spilling the woman onto the floor and lunged for Karl, laughing as he grappled the big man in bear hug. Karl bucked and tossed Chris sideways onto a low glass top table that splintered under him.

The remainder of the night passed off into Red oblivion.

Chris woke with a foul taste in his mouth and his face buried in a pillow made damp from his own drool. It took a moment for him to remember who he was and immediately regretted losing the precious oblivion he had been floating in. He tried to regain it, to forget who he was for a little bit longer, but the rest of his body slowly made itself known; an ache in the lower half of his back, why he didn’t know, and his calves throbbed as if he’d walked miles. There was every possibility he had. 

He sifted through scraps of memory and groaned as fleeting images of him leaving his apartment and taking an air taxi to The Barney Club drifted to the surface. The remainder was a blank and he wondered where he was. He shifted his arm under the pillow and retrieved his other hung over the side of whatever he was laying on. Flopping over onto his back he rubbed a hand across his face before opening gritty eyes. The room was dark. 

Wherever he was, Chris hoped he was alone. “Lights?” he asked tentatively.

A soft orange glow grew from low lights in the floor and reflected back off a black glass ceiling. Exhaling genuine relief as he recognised black sheets barely distinguishable from the polished black tiled floor, he stared up at his shoeless reflection laying alone on the large bed in his apartment. Much to his chagrin, a fashionable black slash had been sprayed across his eyes and he traced smudged spray pen letters scrawled across his chest. A matching black smudge mark sat on the palm of his hand seemed to match the smudge on his chest and his sleep crinkled plain grey paper clothing was torn in several places and covered in liquid splatters that had long since dried. Much of marking on his clothing looked distinctly like blood. 

Chris checked his body for wounds or pain from wounds unseen but found none. Instead of pain, all he felt was cold which had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. He dragged himself to sit on the edge of the bed and watched his hands tremor with the beginnings of withdrawal. Fumbling in his clothing for his personal Tab box he came up empty handed and he scrambled off the bed crossing the bedroom and tripped over one of his shoes by the bedroom door. 

Chris stumbled through into the lounge. Low lights in the black tiled floor were already on and blinds were drawn down on the windows which ran in an arc defining the boundaries of his apartment. He found what he was looking on the floor near his other shoe and flex card. The Tab box was empty, an indication whatever he had been up to the night before had involved pushing it to the limit, and most probably in shared company. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Chris tossed the Tab box aside and swore under his breath. Cold inside him bit a little deeper sending a fresh tremor into his hands and he began a random search of his apartment dragging open drawers and emptying their contents onto the floor. 

In the kitchen he clawed through a rainbow of packets and bottles tipped across the counter and eventually grappled with the safety cap on a small bottle of Smoothers. The cap popped, ricocheting off across the kitchen and most of the bottle’s tiny white contents spilled across the black tiled floor. The combination of his tremoring fingers with nails bitten to their quicks scattered more of the tiny white dots and with burning desperation, Chris crouched down on all fours and licked Tabs directly off the cold floor. 

The hint of peppermint started to override a rank taste in Chris’ mouth and Smoothers’ soft melodious jingles began playing inside his head. He grabbed another bottle marked Morning, popped off the lid and tipped several Tabs straight into his mouth. Something fruity and fresh mingled on his tongue and an advert of a golden sunrise flickered on the edge of his consciousness. 

Chris slumped against one of the kitchen cupboards. Rubbing his lips erratically with shaking fingers he hummed quietly to jingles that played over and over in his head as each Tab dropped in quick succession. He took a shuddering breath as the Smoothers kicked in and scratched at the sensations crawling up his arms. 

“Feeling good. Feeling good. You’re feeling good. Feeling good. Feeling good. Feeling good. Sun in the sky, you know how it feels. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life. And I’m feeling good.”

Chris stared blankly at his reflection in the cupboard surfaces opposite. “Hello. Who are you?”

“Hi,” said Chris’ reflection. It clawed its fingers repeatedly through its blonde hair. “I’m Chris, nice to meet you.”

“Are you feeling good?” asked Chris. He took another shuddering breath and hugged his knees close to his chest. 

His reflection clawed at its feet and ran its hands repeatedly up and down its legs. “Yeah I’m feeling good,” said his reflection.

Tab jingles played softly at the edge of Chris’ consciousness and he scratched at the burning sensation at the base of his skull. He shuffled across the floor closer to his reflection. “You wanna hang out?”

Chris’ reflection raked its hands through its hair. It licked its fingers and shakily picked up a few more Smoothers off the floor rubbing them on its tongue and stared at Chris. “Sure.”

Chris leaned forward and kissed the hard surface of his reflection. “We could just hang out together. And then we wouldn’t need anyone.” His breath ghosted over his reflection. It shivered and nodded back in agreement. 

Chris breathed heavily again across the cupboard surface and wrote his name with a shaking finger. He watched it fade leaving his reflection pressed with its forehead against his. Losing himself in fantasies of imaginary companionship he smiled to himself as he and his counterpart spent the next hour together sat on the kitchen floor. Somewhere under the numbing effects of the Smoothers, Chris was happy in the reality he built for himself and he conducted a whispered lonely conversation, laughing occasionally as he lived a temporary life. He eventually drifted back to the empty reality of his apartment and the hollow sensation inside him. Dragging himself to a stand he traipsed over the clutter across the floor and left the kitchen. 

In the bathroom, Chris ripped off his paper clothes and stuffed them in the disposer. Humming along to Smoother jingles he rested his forehead against the glassy black tiles of the walk-in shower. Relentless pounding of hot water on his body was comforting and he slid down onto the floor to watch the water trickle away towards the centre drain until steam obscured the view. 

He turned off the shower when the Smoothers began to wear off. A drier immediately switched on buffeting him with hot air and left his hair fluffed and standing on end. 

Marginally refreshed, Chris paused momentarily as he caught his reflection obscured by residual condensation in the mirrored walls of the bathroom. He studied the writing on his chest and wondered briefly who the author had been. 

“Is it someone’s name?” asked his reflection.

Chris was unsure. He turned his body catching the reflection of his reflection on the other side of the bathroom and tried to read the smudged word again.

“Omorcull?” Chris frowned.

A prod of inner cold put a halt to contemplations. Grabbing fresh paper bathrobes out of a dispenser, he padded bare foot back to the kitchen and dropped several more Smoothers, a Fizz, a Brightener and a Purity. Inner cold faded gradually replaced by jolly jingles cutting him off from the lonely silence in the apartment. Helping himself to a glass of water, he dug out a raspberry coloured vitamin Tab from a packet on the counter and treaded back across the clutter on the kitchen floor heading for the lounge.

He made himself comfortable in his favourite leather recliner and dropped the vitamin Tab into the glass of water. Watching his breakfast effervesce into an instant smoothie he waited for the foam to climb nearly to the top of the glass before he took a sip. Familiar nausea rose temporarily as the drink hit his empty stomach and he forced down as much of the smoothie as he could. He rode his body’s protests for the next hour alternating between shivering and sweating until his blood sugar settled, and wiped away tears from the emotional rollercoaster that accompanied it.

Chris sniffed and rubbed the damp end of his nose on the sleeve of his paper bathrobe aware of the solitude in his dimly lit apartment pressing on him and threatening to amplifying emotions he preferred to avoid. 

 

Chris rubbed a hand across tired eyes. “E-Wall on.”

The wall from floor to ceiling across from him flickered instantly to life. A multitude of entertainment networks ran simultaneously filling the apartment with chatter and music. 

“Um..select channels 9, 5, 2, 27, 33-” He hesitated noticing a flashing red dot in the corner of the wall. “And 41.”

The wall flickered again presenting his selection, sport of various kinds and retro films. The red dot in the corner of the wall flashed persistently and Chris took sip of his smoothie and stared the entertainment. Several minutes ticked by before his attention started drifting to the flashing red dot. He shifted uncomfortably in the recliner and began biting a little piece of nail left on one of his fingers.

“Show message,” said Chris quietly. 

The entertainment flicked off instantly leaving a blank wall and message header:

Vid-Call From Number: Private – number withheld  
Date: 42-432-243 Time: 0336 hours

Chris pinched his lower lip between his fingers. No one ever left messages for him. He tried to think of the small circle of people he knew in High Towers. All were social acquaintances and transient friendships at best, a deliberate act on his part. Close was something he never wanted and anything that remotely resembled intimacy was conducted under the influence of Tabs. He preferred never to remember inconsequential encounters. 

Chris took a sip of the smoothie that was beginning to warm between his hands and taste a little acrid. “Play message,” he said. 

The wall burst into life filling with faces he didn’t know. The mystery location looked liked someone’s apartment and Chris judged by the expensive decor probably somewhere in High Towers. Loud music played in the background mixing with shouted conversations and laughter. Grinning faces loomed in and out of focus as they pushed themselves in front of the Vid-Caller sticking out their tongues or gabbling incoherent information. Out of view someone laughed hysterically.

A woman with yellow hair sporting a fashionable black slash across her eyes hogged the action for a few seconds. “You’re so rad,” she shrieked. 

Out of view a gruff voice shouted ‘shut the fuck up’ and then Chris watched in horror as his own face appeared. 

“Hey,” said his other self. He gurned into the Vid-Caller and there was more hysterical laughter.

Chris cringed and hid behind his hands. 

“On Circuit,” his other self slurred. He pulled open his shirt exposing the writing across his chest and the image blurred as he pressed his chest closer to the Vid-Caller. Staggering backwards he fell over out of view. Hysterical laughter followed and his face appeared again as he was helped up by several people including the woman with yellow hair. Numerous times he was shoved out of the way by people sticking out their tongues or talking randomly into the Vid-Caller. Then he was back, wagging his finger at someone unseen and pulling his shirt wide to point at the writing on his chest.

He loomed close to the Vid-Caller again and the image of his face filled the wall. 

“Listen to me,” he said. “Get it. It’s really good. You gotta get it. You must get it. Look.” He pointed past his shoulder to the room en masse. 

From between his fingers Chris watched people hanging over chairs and huddling in loud groups. There was a moment of hush as someone told everyone to shut up and Chris caught the sense of anticipation in the room. In the far background and well out of focus he saw someone appear in the apartment’s Locator. Everyone burst into hysterical laughter and a chorus of shouted ‘No, no, no’s’ went up from groups sat around the apartment. 

Suddenly Chris’ face filled the wall again sporting a fresh black stripe across his eyes and the woman with yellow hair pranced around behind him pulling faces. 

“Get it,” he said. “You’re gonna love it. You can have anything you want.”

The Vid-Call message ended and three options to ‘Play’, ‘Save’ or ‘Delete’ timed out automatically saving the message. The wall reverted to entertainment channels filling the apartment with noise.

Chris sat in the recliner with his hands over his face burning with embarrassment. Waking up and dealing with the remains of a forgotten night was one thing, facing evidence of the reality was another. Chris cringed as a wave of self recrimination struck in a horrible creep of shame and he lurched out of the recliner hot footing it to the kitchen. He immediately dropped a Reliever fizzing into a glass of water and downed it. 

“What the fuck are you doing Chris?” he asked his reflection in a kitchen cupboard. It had no answer for him. He dropped another Calmer and focused on the slowly opening petals of a daisy hovering on the edge of his consciousness as the Tab’s advert played. 

Chris’ reflection opened the front of its bathrobe and Chris looked down at the writing smudged across his own chest. 

“I need some air,” he said.

Chris turned the E-Wall off on his way into his bedroom. He selected ‘Casual Outfit’ on the bedroom’s wardrobe panel and neatly folded blue paper clothing appeared out of the dispenser. Stuffing his bathrobe into the disposer, he changed into the fresh blue pants and matching sleeveless shirt, and snatching a pair of rough paper casual loafers from the dispenser, hopped about as he slipped them onto his feet.

On his way back through the lounge he grabbed his flex card and empty Tab box off the floor and replenished the Tab box’s small compartments from the heap of debris on the kitchen counter. With everything he needed in life Chris bounded into the Locator alcove. He pressed the panel bringing up a list of destinations selecting a regular haunt and watched the dark confines of his apartment disappear as the Locator hummed into life. 

 

Café Monsieur was one of many daytime social gathering spots in the High Tower area. Located on the south side of one the highest towers in the city, the only thing above it were the flat sharp spire penthouses of the few anonymous super rich. It had an expensive membership which meant unlike other cafes, only the most affluent could afford to frequent it and as such had the advantage of being quieter as a result. Chris preferred it for that reason alone. 

Chris appeared in the café’s Locator and stepped out onto the terrazzo floor. The café was well populated but conversation at the tables was quiet and the place had a pleasant hum which mingled well with the Calmers in Chris’ system. 

Late afternoon sun filtered through the geodesic glass dome covering the café. Only a few of the tallest towers in the city poked their way above the horizon detracting from the otherwise perfect view the café had to offer of a cloudless late afternoon sky. Even the sound of air cars speeding past and just out of sight could barely be heard. 

Chris threaded his way through terracotta pots planted with large leaf greenery until he found an empty table. He was about to sit down when he heard his name called. Chris glanced across the café and saw hand wave over the heads of group people sat near the edge of the dome. Part of his insides sank.

“Chris. Come over. Come over.”

The hand waved again and Chris caught a glimpse of a face he recognised; an oriental guy who went by the name of The Cho and who was one of High Towers’ most notorious gamblers. 

Chris knew not to go over would be considered rude. He also he knew so few people in the High Tower set that if he didn’t, if he ever wanted company at a later time he may not be welcome at anyone’s table. Nonetheless he hesitated. There was a stab of reluctance when he finally left his empty table and wandered over to the group who sat around a low table cluttered with coffee cups.

Everyone in the group turned to look at him. 

“Hi how you all doing?” asked Chris. He glanced at each person in turn and offered a smile. By the few smiles he received in return and the dull look in everyone’s eyes, he guessed they were all heavily upped on Languid. 

“We’re fine,” said The Cho. He sprawled in his chair as if to emphasise his point making the rattan weave protest. “Join us. Don’t be a stranger.”

Chris looked around for a spare chair. The tables nearby were fully occupied so he fetched one from his abandoned table, lugging the cumbersome thing across the café and deposited it on the outskirts of the group. He sat down and immediately offered his Tab box. Social protocol followed and several people in the group helped themselves. Chris dropped another Calmer and half a Languid just to be polite as a waiter arrived, took his order and promptly disappeared across the café.

Conversation around the table was minimal which Chris put down to being the result of the Languid. 

He didn’t recognise the two men sat on The Cho’s right wearing matching black paper lounge suits. He guessed they were either new members of The Cho’s gambling entourage or just random acquaintances the gambler had picked up for the day. The only woman present in the group sat to the left of The Cho and was dressed in an expensive looking cerise paper slip dress that showed off her honey chocolate skin. Chris vaguely recognised her. He’d seen her in The Cho’s company before, albeit at a distance and with a different hairstyle, but the way she toed the bottom of The Cho’s shoe with hers hinted at a close acquaintance. 

Chris had seen the others around the table frequent the café, but he had never spoken to them. All were dressed in variations of the same designer paper suits in degrees of black, blue and dark green. One very young guy with rusty blonde hair and a dark green suit sat with his head bowed and appeared to be sulking. Chris stared at his profile and suddenly remembered seeing him being ejected from the café after causing a scene. He hoped that event wouldn’t be repeated today. 

Chris’ coffee arrived. The presence of a cup and saucer in his hand gave him something to do and instantly he was more at ease. He told himself he’d made the right decision getting out of his apartment, at least for a little while. A little nudge of uneasiness came back at the thought of Vid-Call message. 

Chris took a sip of his coffee and tried not to make eye contact with anyone in the group. 

The woman sat opposite leant forward in her chair. Her dress gaped exposing most of her breasts and she smiled slowly at Chris. “I love your eyes,” she said. 

Chris took a hasty sip of his coffee that burnt his throat on the way down. “Thanks,” he said. He fixed on the woman’s face. 

All eyes around the table turned on Chris. 

“Isn’t that so last week now though?” said the man sat next to The Cho with a nasal pitch to his voice. “I mean. Isn’t that like so not rad now?”

Chris cringed inwardly wishing he didn’t have the black slash sprayed across his eyes. He was the only person at the table who did.

“Of course it’s rad,” said The Cho. He opened a flat silver box and fitted a long thin cigarette into an ebony holder and lit it. “It’s rad because it’s not rad anymore.”

“That right,” said the woman. “Wearing it is just makes it even more rad because it’s not rad any more.”

“Chris is always rad,” said The Cho. He gritted the cigarette holder between his teeth and blew a cloud of smoke over everyone. “Like, look at his clothes. Totally rad. Dispenser Casual. He’s the rad man.”

The woman flopped bonelessly in her chair and laughed. “The Rad Man. Now that’s rad.”

“He’s like a walking rad advert,” laughed The Cho. His tongue curled around the cigarette holder. “Like. You could call a Tab after him. The Rad Tab.”

The woman laughed again. “Oh my god now that would be rad.”

Several in the group joined in the laughter except the sulking young man who continued glaring at the floor. Chris smiled weakly and sipped his coffee. 

“So what is the rad news, Rad Man?” asked The Cho. He smiled slowly. “Have you been anywhere exciting lately?” 

Laughter petered out and all eyes turned on Chris again. Chris shifted in his chair making the rattan protest. He had never been good at being the centre of attention without the help of heavy doses of Tabs and hated being questioned about anything to do with his life.

“Oh the usual, y’know. Keeping busy. I went to Dojo’s for a few days.” Chris said. “I needed some time out so I hung out there.”

The woman waved her hand dismissively. “That place is awful. That’s so not rad.”

“No, but it is,” piped The Cho. “You’re not on his wave baby.”

The woman weakly slapped The Cho’s arm and laughed. “Oh my god, you’re so right. I forgot. Anything not rad is rad.”

“He’s the Rad Man,” said the black suit sat next to The Cho.

Laughter renewed around the table. Chris reached for his Tab box and dropped another two Calmers and the remaining half of Languid. 

“So what else, what else?” asked The Cho. He slipped an arm around the back of the woman and settled a possessive hand on the back of her neck. “There’s only so much massage a man can get at Dojo’s before the novelty wears off. Surely you must have had other, shall we say, adventures.” 

Chris thought the smile that spread across The Cho’s face looked a little too knowing. “I went to The Barney Club,” he said. 

The woman snorted and The Cho raised an eyebrow that looked a little unsurprised for Chris’ tastes. 

“He’s the Rad Man,” chimed the black suit.

Chris blinked as everything took on a hazy glow courtesy of the Languid. Hoping to change the subject away from himself to more general topics he blurted the only thing he knew. “I was thinking actually, about getting an On Circuit installed.”

Several people around the table glanced at him and smirked.

“Oh my god you aren’t, are you?” said the woman. “That is so not rad, but like rad rad, because everyone is getting them.”

“He’s the Rad Man.”

“I have so got to get one of those,” said The Cho. Several people around the table nodded and sniggered. A long Languid silence followed. 

“I heard someone got killed using it,” said the woman. A collective gasp went up round the table. “I know. So awful. Poor guy. He did a Random Circuit, just because he was like trying it out and the unit gave him someone from one, y’know, from the Trash.”

There was a collective oh from the group.

“Anyway,” said the woman. “He accepted and whoever the person was, like they must’ve been like a real fuck head, you know what Trash are like--”

“They’re so disgusting,” said the guy sat next to Chris.

The woman nodded. “I know right, so disgusting. Anyway the Trash? Stabbed the guy to death.”

The group gasped again and there were murmurs of oh my god. Chris stared intently at the woman.

“Trash shouldn’t be allowed,” said the guy sat next to Chris. He brushed a hand across his knee dusting away something unseen. “There should be a way to get rid of those types of people. Humanely. They’re just like animals anyway.” 

The comment sparked a listless debate about what type of person could be classed as Trash.

Chris leant forward in his chair and caught the woman’s attention. “Wait a minute, you said, he got stabbed?” he asked over the top of the others’ debate. “What? Like murdered?”

“Uh-huh,” nodded the woman. “In his own apartment. There was like blood everywhere and like the Police found his head in the disposer. It had been cut right off.” 

“Maybe we should get Anton On Circuit,” said The Cho. He kicked the foot belonging to the sulking rusty haired young guy. 

“Go fuck yourself,” snapped Anton.

The debate about Trash stopped instantly.

“Now come on Anton, don’t be a downer,” said The Cho. He made an inclusive wave to the people gathered around the table. “You’ll spoil it for everyone. Again.”

Anton’s face darkened. “Fuck you, I never spoil anything. You spoil it for everyone with your fucking shit.”

The Cho laughed off Anton’s comments and was promptly joined by several in the group. Chris stared into his coffee and wondered if he should make an excuse to leave. 

“Anton, drop a Chill for fuck’s sake,” said the woman. “You’re going to get thrown out of the cafe again.” She leant forward exposing her breasts again and patted Anton on the knee. 

Anton flinched at the woman’s touch dragging his knee away. “And you’re a fucking worthless bitch Zoe.”

The woman looked decidedly uncomfortable and adjusted the front of her dress. “Just because I’m with The Cho now doesn’t mean you have to be jealous,” she said.

There was a palpable rise of colour in Anton’s cheeks and Chris picked up on the tension in the young guy despite the haze of Languid.

“You think I’m jealous you stupid bitch?” Anton leaned forward in his chair drawing level with Zoe. “You know how much I pay for him? I pay for everything. That includes you. He’s got no fucking money. I own him.”

Zoe’s smile appeared forced. “You need to keep your voice down Anton.” She pointed to a waiter who was hovering nearby.

“You’re such a stupid bitch,” said Anton. “It doesn’t matter how many times I get thrown out of here, I always get back in don’t I. Ever wondered why?” 

“No, never and I don’t care,” said Zoe. She swatted away The Cho’s hand on the back of her neck, grabbed her purse off the table and dug out her Tab box. 

“Because my father fucking owns this place.” Anton shoved his foot against the table and the loud smash as several cups hit the floor drew the attention of everyone in the café. “And you do care Zoe. It’s all you care about. You’re no better than Trash. Maybe you should put yourself On Circuit – on no wait, technically, you already are.”

The waiter arrived at the table, bent low to Anton’s ear and whispered something. 

Anton stood abruptly and kicked over his chair. “Fuck you,” he said to the waiter. Pushing his way past the waiter he stalked across the café and planted himself on a stool at the bar overlooking the edge of the dome. 

The Cho wrapped his tongue around the end of the cigarette holder producing fresh clouds of smoke and put his hand back on Zoe’s neck. Another waiter arrived to clear the debris off the floor and the remaining members of the group dug into their Tab boxes. Silence settled around the table leaving Chris wondering what he had just witnessed. 

Conversation across the café slowly returned to its normal level.

Chris decided it was time to leave and try another café somewhere in High Towers, somewhere he could just sit quietly. Distinctly aware of an edge of discomfort constantly nudging him despite the Calmers in his system, he put it down to the immediate company, in particular The Cho who maintained a permanent smile seemingly directed straight at him. He finished his coffee and put his cup and saucer on the clean table.

“Well well,” said The Cho. “Going already Chris? You should stay. Isn’t that right baby?” 

Zoe murmured something as The Cho squeezed her neck. She appeared stupefied, her eyes half lidded as she rode whatever heavy dose she’d dropped. Even so, Chris caught the fact they kept drifting to Anton sat on the far side of the café. 

“Nah, I should really be going.” Chris said. He slapped his thighs and sat forward in his chair. 

“You’re not embarrassed are you Chris?” asked The Cho. He laughed and several in the group joined in.

Chris tried to ignore a creeping paranoia he was the subject of private humour. “N-no, I’m not embarrassed,” he said. The smile The Cho gave made him distinctly uncomfortable. “W-why would I be embarrassed?”

The Cho shrugged lazily and waved a hand inclusively to the group. “Well I don’t know. It depends on what would embarrass a man like you. Maybe we’re not good enough company for you?”

“Er, no. I mean, you are, good enough,” said Chris. “I mean- you mean because of what Anton said?”

The Cho’s smile widened. “Whatever do you mean Chris?”

Chris glanced from face to face as all eyes in the group turned on him. “Er, well I meant like, what he said about, the credits and stuff. I mean that, that doesn’t bother me. I hang out with people all the time that, er, y’know.”

There was silence from the group and a few hid smiles behind their hands.

The Cho dragged heavily on his cigarette and blew a slow cloud of smoke that hung over the table. “Of course,” he said.

“He’s the Rad Man,” said the black suit. 

A couple of people around the table sniggered. 

Chris perched on the edge of his chair in the pensive silence that followed. It was evident no one in the group had anything else to say even though something unspoken passed between them all. Chris decided he’d had enough and didn’t want to stay to find out what the cause of the private joke was. He rose slowly and his goodbyes were barely acknowledged except for The Cho who gave an oily smile and told Chris not to be a stranger. 

Chris abruptly turned his back on the group and began making his way across the café. He could see Anton at the bar. The young man no longer gazed at the view but stared fixedly across the café. Their eyes met and Chris tried to offer a smile. It wasn’t reciprocated. 

Chris locked his attention on the Locator on the far side of the café. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Anton slide off his stool and start weaving through tables towards him. The Calmers in his system did nothing to alleviate the uncomfortable sensation that increased as Anton drew closer and Chris braced himself for confrontation. Anton swept past within inches of his shoulder without a glance and Chris rode a wave of relief more potent than any Calmer. 

A second later a thunderous smash directly behind Chris showered him in glass and he threw his arms instinctively over his head and cowered. Glass splinters bounced around him peppering the terrazzo floor and the few seconds of silence that followed were broken by screams from around the cafe. 

Dazed, Chris got to his feet. A blast of cold air hit his face and he looked up at a large hole in the roof of the dome. Unable to comprehend what had happened, Chris locked eyes briefly with Anton standing a few tables away. The young man wore a shocked expression and it took Chris a few moments to make sense of the mess of tables and chairs between them. 

A twisted form lay on top of a broken cafe table. A paper shoe hung off the toe at the end of a foot and an arm lay over the edge of a toppled chair. A pool of dark red crept across the terrazzo floor. Bright yellow hair matched a frilly yellow skirt and a fashionable black slash was sprayed across vacant eyes that stared up at the hole in the dome. 

Chris’ memory dragged up the Vid-Call message back at his apartment and the image of a woman’s grinning face plastered across his E-Wall.

_You’re so rad._

Chris’ breath snatched in his throat. Tearing his eyes away from the broken table he fixed on the café’s Locator. People in the immediate vicinity crawled or staggered away whilst others remained sat in their chairs staring past Chris with vacant expressions seemingly unconcerned or unaware they were splattered in blood. 

Chaos appeared to move with languid grace in front of Chris and he moved with it. He caught Anton in the corner of his eye moving parallel to him and another blast of cold air through the hole in the dome carried sirens. Police air cars with roof lights twirling blue and red glided in to view outside the dome. 

Chris pressed on pushing blindly against the flow of curious café customers who were trying to get a better view of the incident. Wincing as pain suddenly burned its way up his legs, sheer will alone carried him stumbling into the café’s Locator. He punched his address into the Locator’s panel and risked a glance back across the café. A trail of bloody footprints marked his escape between the tables and a few in the close packed café crowd looked at him in the several excruciating seconds before the Locator hummed into life.

The café vanished and the solace of Chris’ dimly lit apartment appeared in front of him. He staggered out of Locator alcove crying out in pain and immediately fell to his hands and knees. Rolling on the hard tile floor, he instinctively gripped his ankles as his feet burned with a fresh wave of agony. The sight of his own blood soaking through his paper loafers and smeared across the floor of the Locator made Chris lightheaded. Breathing heavily and biting back a whimper, he eased off his loafers one by one pulling the glass fragments from the café’s dome roof which had cut straight through the thin paper soles of his feet. Blood ran freely across the black tiled floor.

Tossing his loafers aside Chris pounded the floor with a fist.

“Fuck it. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.” 

Chris rolled onto his back and immediately cried out as something sharp dug into his shoulders. Twisting on the floor he craned his head and caught a glimpse of blood across his back and more glass fragments. He stared up at his dishevelled reflection in the black glass ceiling.

“Why me?” 

His reflection pulled a pained expression and covered its face with its hands. 

Chris groaned. His bladder finally threatened to override his muscle control and he heaved himself onto his hands and knees and began a slow painful crawl across the expanse of the lounge to the bathroom. When he finally emptied his bladder it was first genuine sense of relief he’d experienced since waking. It did not last long. 

Abandoning his shirt in the bathroom dispenser Chris grabbed a paper bathrobe and tried to cover his wounds temporarily in toilet tissues. He crawled to the kitchen in search of something strong to cut his brain off from the throbbing sensation in his feet and the memory of events in the café. 

Returning to the lounge on all fours carrying a bottle of Oblivion in his teeth, Chris pushed a 4 pack of Synthbeer and dispenser med kit across the floor. He threw himself into his favourite recliner, opened a bottle of Synthbeer, downed half and took a tentative look at his feet. Soft pink skin bled freely through the toilet tissue. Chris ripped a gauze packet open with his teeth and tried to dress his wounds. The ominous sharp scag of glass still embedded in his flesh made him gag. Popping open the bottle of Oblivion, he tipped out a few small scarlet Tabs into the palm of his hand and debated caution against relief. Relief won out and he dropped one of the Tabs dissolving it on his tongue. He tasted a hint of sweet chilli spice. 

The Tab’s advert emerged slowly, a dark red that seeped up through Chris’ consciousness to envelope him. His head flopped back against the recliner’s headrest and he watched his reflection floating on the ceiling. 

“I’m such a stupid fuck,” said Chris. “What was I thinking? So stupid.”

“What are you going to do?” asked his reflection. It tried to grab a bottle of Synthbeer at the side of the recliner. 

Chris raised his head briefly and took a few mouthfuls of synthetic alcohol. “I dunno what I’m gonna do.” He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “What would you do?”

His reflection shrugged slightly and rested the bottle of Synthbeer over the writing on its chest. “Dunno. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, no, no,” said Chris. “They’ll find out. They’ll check the Locator. My blood was all over the floor. The police guys, they’re gonna come here and ask why I left and then they’ll find out about the Vid-Call message. They’re gonna throw me in jail for leaving the café.”

“Delete the message,” said his reflection. 

“Shit, I can’t do that, if they check they’ll ask why.” said Chris. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

“There’s no need for them to do that. I don’t know her, I don’t even know where I was, I can’t remember,” said his reflection. It floated down from the ceiling and hovered above him. “You’ve made a mistake. It might not have been her. It might have just looked like her. Everyone looks the same anyway.” 

Chris nodded slowly. “That’s right, everyone is the same. And that’s right, I didn’t know her.”

“They won’t come here. Don’t worry about it. It’s not important,” said his reflection. It tried to drink some more Synthbeer and missed, spilling most over Chris’ chin and neck. 

Chris sniggered and let the bottle slither out of his hands onto the floor. He closed his eyes telling himself he would just take a moment to gather the energy and then he would get up off the recliner and fetch a cloth to wipe up the beer. Oblivion took him instead.


	2. Chapter 2

Dressed only in a bathrobe, Chris scratched at two days growth on his chin and snapped two doses of painkiller out of its plastic wrapper. He leaned against a kitchen unit balancing precariously on one foot and downed the little white tablets with a glass of water. Making a slow half hop, half crawl he retreated back to the lounge and took up residence in his favourite recliner. 

Two days of enforced incarceration in his apartment courtesy of wounded feet had driven him near to boredom induced insanity. Whilst his right foot appeared to be healing well and was only mildly irritating, his left throbbed constantly and showed no signs of relenting. A change of dressing revealed anguish around the cuts and he had quickly covered them with some standard sanitized dispenser gauze and fresh elastoband. 

He drew a blanket around him as he hunkered down into the recliner and sought the warmth it afforded despite the ambient temperature of the apartment. More miserable than he could ever remember being in his life, he sat in his gloomy apartment surrounded by empty Synthbeer bottles, half eaten packets of chips and stared at the E-Wall. Entertainment channels flicked in silence. 

Events at the café haunted him every time his foot gave a throbbing reminder. He had chosen not watch the saved Vid-Call message again to confirm his suspicions he had known the woman at the café, and equally, dared not delete it. Occasionally he glanced toward the Locator alcove at the side of the E-Wall half expecting Police to appear at any moment and subject him to an interrogation that would end in him being forcibly dragged from his apartment and thrown into a filthy cell in some unknown part of the city. Anxiety immune to the copious Calmers he had dropped nibbled away at him and in turn, he nibbled away at whatever was left of his finger nails. 

The day drifted away in excruciating silence and monotony. Chris ate without appetite, chewing his way through the remains of a bag of salted chips he found on the floor beside the recliner and supped his way through more bottles of Synthbeer. He dozed a little when the pain killers kicked in and woke to take another dose, hobbling back from the kitchen with a fresh pack of Synthbeer under his arm. 

Chris sank into the recliner. He renewed his entertainment selection bringing up four film channels on the E-Wall and opened his sixth bottle of Synthbeer. 

Silent action filled the whole wall opposite. In one block screen two men dressed in historical western costume stood in a deserted street and faced off with their hands on their pistols whilst in another two men fought each other with swords. In the third screen a woman raced along corridors being chased by some unseen assailant and in the fourth, men wearing sunglasses and dressed only in jeans played volleyball on a beach. 

Adverts interrupted the action regularly and in a quirk of synchronicity the whole wall turned into a four square repetition of the same advert. Prios Corps logos floated next to each other and thousands of faces filled the wall until smiling anonymous individuals mouthed the words On Circuit over and over again. Chris’ attention transferred to the Vid-Call unit that lay on his lounge coffee table. The advert finished and the channels lost their synchronicity reverting back to the films. 

“E-wall, gimme a G-It. Search for ‘On Circuit’,” Chris said.

The entertainment channels immediately disappeared and the wall filled with a Global It search and presented only one option.

“Select Prios Corps Purchases,” said Chris.

Settling back in the recliner, Chris turned up the sound as the wall filled with thousands of peoples faces accompanied by a musical intro and a corporate logo with the letters PC floating over the top. 

“Prios Corps – the people you can trust” said a female announcer. “If you would you like to make a purchase insert your flex card into your Vid-Caller now and press dial. You will be connected to the first available operator. Standard charges apply.”

Chris set his beer down on the nearby coffee table and rummaged through the mess around his recliner to retrieve his flex card. He snatched up the Vid-Caller unit from the coffee table and slammed in his flex card. The call connected almost immediately and the head and shoulders of pristine woman wearing a pale blue uniform with matching box hat appeared on the wall. 

“Hello. Thank you for calling Prios Corps. What would you like to purchase?” The woman smiled immaculately.

Chris stared dumbly at the wall.

“Sir?”

“Sorry. Er.. On Circuit?”

The woman’s lips twitched a small smile and she looked Chris up and down. Chris instantly became aware he wore only a bathrobe and the words On Circuit written right across his chest were visible. A twang of self consciousness made him fold his arms across his chest.

“No problem Sir,” said the woman “Will that be one unit?”

“Yes.”

The woman lowered her eyes briefly and Chris heard a small beep. “At that address?”

“Yes.”

“Please press Accept on your Vid-Caller unit to indicate that you have read, understood and accept the following terms and conditions.”

The woman’s face was obscured momentarily by a superimposed flood of information that scrolled swiftly up from the bottom of the wall to the top. Chris glazed over and immediately pressed Accept. The information disappeared leaving the woman smiling at Chris. 

“Thank you,” she said. “Payment will be deducted immediately from your account. Installation is included upon delivery. The On Circuit unit remains the property of Prios Corps and can and will be removed without notice at any time. Is there anything else I can help you with today Sir?”

“Er.. when do I get it?” asked Chris.

“Approximately 35 minutes, Sir. I’m sorry we are not able to give more specific timescales due to the high level of demand we are experiencing at present.”

“Okay,” said Chris.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today Sir?” asked the woman.

“No thank you.”

“Have a nice day Sir.”

The Vid-Call disconnected and left Chris staring at the entertainment channels as the E-Wall reverted to normal. He pulled his flex card out of the Vid-Caller and sat back in the recliner. A wide grin spread across his face and he experienced something he couldn’t remember ever having without dropping a Tab, and which he thought might be excitement. It was a strange sensation. 

Chris turned down the sound on the E-Wall and looked around at the chaos in his apartment. Debris from his Tab search two days previously was still scattered across the floor and his bloodied loafers were still by the Locator. 

“Shit.”

Scrambling out of the recliner he crawled around his apartment incoherently shoving drawers and contents back into place. Time ticked away unnoticed. When the announce tone on the Locator pinged softly, breathless from the frantic clear up Chris ground to halt in the middle of the lounge like a startled deer. Kneeling on the floor with bloodied loafers in his hands he stared at the Locator as it pinged again. 

“Yes. Hello. Who is it?” Chris quickly asked. 

“Prios Corps delivery,” came a man’s voice through the Locator’s comm.

Chris self consciously drew the bathrobe across his chest trying his best to cover the spray pen writing and hide the loafers. “Yes come in please. Er… I mean, Enter.”

The Locator hummed briefly and a delivery man who looked Chris’ age, dressed immaculately in a pale blue uniform and carrying a small box in one hand, appeared in the alcove near the E-wall. 

“Good afternoon Sir,” said the delivery man and stepped out of the Locator. “I’m here to install your On Circuit unit.” He waved the box in his hand. “Apologies for the delay we are experiencing a high level of demand at present.”

Chris hovered in the middle of the lounge. “No problem,” he said.

“It will take me five minutes to install Sir.” The delivery man appeared slightly expectant in the silence that followed. “Shall I continue with the installation Sir?”

“Yeah, sorry, yeah, sure, sure,” said Chris. 

The delivery man nodded curtly and set to work immediately removing the Locator’s panel. 

“I’m just going to go get changed,” said Chris. 

The delivery man glanced back over his shoulder and smiled politely. “As you wish Sir.” He turned back to the Locator and continued whatever he was doing with many wires which had tumbled out of the panel. 

Chris scrambled on all fours off his bedroom, stuffed his bloodied loafers into the disposer and selected ‘Casual Outfit’ on the wardrobe panel. Neatly folded blue paper clothing appeared out of the dispenser. Sat on the floor struggling to pull on the pants he heard the delivery man call from the lounge. 

Chris poked his head around the bottom of bedroom door. “Sorry what was that you said?”

“All finished Sir,” said the delivery man. The Locator’s panel was back in place and the delivery man stood waiting patiently.

Chris abandoned his pants on the bedroom floor, self consciously adjusted his bathrobe and suffering a chronic wave of indignation, crawled back across the vast expanse of his lounge to hover near a recliner. 

“That was fast. That’s really it?” Chris asked breathlessly leaning on the recliner.

“Yes Sir,” said the delivery man. He pointed to the Vid-Caller on the nearby table. “The On Circuit unit is fully integrated into your Locator via your Vid-Caller. Just dial and smile.” He smiled perfectly. “Is there anything else I can help you with today Sir?”

“N-no. I don’t think so,” said Chris. Shuffling around the recliner he picked the Vid-Caller up off the table and examined it. It appeared exactly the same as it always had been. “So I just—“

“Just dial and smile,” said the delivery man. 

Chris glanced up. The delivery man had already stepped into the Locator. He gave Chris a jovial wave and Chris waved back limply. The Locator hummed and the delivery man disappeared leaving Chris holding the Vid-Caller and wondering what the hell to do next. 

Chris gnawed at a tiny piece of rough skin on the end of one of his fingers. Thoughts about a possible scowling visitation by Police and the incriminating Vid-Call message were pushed aside. Curiosity began to smoulder. Chris hauled himself up into the recliner. Zoe’s tale about an On Circuit murder brought a hitch of hesitation as he turned the Vid-Caller over in his hands and stress induced fantasies about being interrogated to death in a dark room by grim detectives were replaced by alarming images of being at the mercy of an anonymous knife wielding assailant. 

Chris ran a thumb over the dial button on the Vid-Caller. 

_Just dial and smile._

The presence of possibility entered Chris’ world for the first time in two days. Boredom told him that to look wouldn’t do any harm and he wouldn’t bring anyone into his apartment. Besides, he didn’t have anything else to occupy his time and it would probably take his mind off his throbbing foot. 

Chris rifled through the debris strewn around the recliner and found his flex card hiding under an empty bag of salted chips. He slotted the card into the Vid-Caller and considered a sense of anticipation as his thumb hovered over the dial button.

“Well here goes nothing,” he said, and pressed the dial button. 

The E-Wall opposite flicked to a blank block for several seconds relegating the entertainment channels to a thin strip along the bottom. What was obviously an On Circuit promo then filled the majority of the wall, thousands of faces with a Prios Corps logo floating over the top. It quickly disappeared reverting to a main menu offering two options; Use or Help. 

Chris selected ‘Help’ and turned up the sound as the unit’s recorded intro began. An image of an impossibly well groomed man with a wide smile dressed in a pale blue Prios Corps suit entered stage right. He perched nonchalantly on the edge of a recliner in a mock up of an apartment and spoke with a smooth croon. 

“Hi there. Congratulations on purchasing the On Circuit unit.” The Prios Corps man produced a Vid-Caller and held it casually as he struck a confident pose. “On Circuit. The future of personal entertainment and social networking from the comfort and safety of your own home. Guaranteed.”

Chris snorted and reached for his Synthbeer.

The man smiled perfectly. “Never again will you have to suffer the inconvenience, disappointment or embarrassment of going into social spaces. Everything you need is right here.” He waved the Vid-Caller and patted it in a friendly manner. 

Chris glanced at his bandaged feet hanging over the end of the recliner. “Get on with it,” he muttered.

“So you’ve had your On Circuit installed. Now what do you do? I know, you’re sat there asking yourself ‘What can I expect from the On Circuit experience?’”

“No I’m not,” said Chris.

“Well I can tell you, as we say at Prios Corps, anything you want. It’s all right here at the touch of a button. Just dial and smile.” The man rose from the edge of the recliner and waved jovially. “Come on, let’s take a look together at how it works, and what the potential improvement to your life could be.”

The image on the wall reverted to another apartment empty except for a young woman who sat twirling her hair and gazing wistfully out of a window. 

The man in the Prios Corps suit entered stage right lurking in the background with a suitably sympathetic expression. “Take Jane here,” he said. “Jane’s like you; a nice person. Positive. Intelligent. Confident. Attractive. She has lots of interests but can’t find anyone to share them with. Jane’s tired of social spaces and mixing with people who aren’t like her and don’t appreciate the kind of person she is. Jane wants something new, something different.”

The image on the wall flickered to the young woman holding a Vid-Caller. She smiled broadly with immaculate timing and pressed dial. 

“With On-Circuit, you can have everything you want,” said the Prios Corps man. 

The image of Jane’s apartment switched and was suddenly full of happy smiling people laughing and joking. Jane was the centre of attention and hung off a perfect looking man who gazed adoringly at her. People dressed in sports outfits and carrying tennis rackets bounced out of the Locator and greeted Jane with hugs and kisses. 

The Prios Corps man appeared stage right with a broad smile and thumbed over his shoulder at the packed apartment. “Wow. See what can happen? Yeah, that’s right. Anything is possible. You can have anything you want.” He waved the Vid-Caller in his hand. “And On Circuit is incredibly easy to use.”

Jane’s happy face appeared in close up filling the wall. “That’s right, it’s just so easy to use. Just dial and smile. Everything you want is just waiting for you out there,” she said.

The image reverted back to the Prios Corps man sitting nonchalantly on the edge of his recliner in the mock apartment. “So you’re now asking yourself ‘How do I get what I want?’ Well let’s take a look.”

The large E-Wall in the background filled with information. 

“This is On Circuit,” smiled the Prios Corps man. He strolled over the wall which displayed only two options: Personal Profile and Search. “Looks simple doesn’t it? Well it is. When you choose Search the On Circuit system will search for anyone available who’s just like you.” He grinned and pointed to the Search option. Thousands of faces appeared on the wall. “On Circuit is completely safe too. You have total peace of mind knowing all financial transactions remain anonymous and are made instantaneously. The moment you like what you see, just select Accept. You can chat, exchange, and meet people just like you face to face.” 

The images on Chris’ wall changed rapidly; a man athletically ploughed his way through a swimming pool, a woman guided her horse in a powerful leap over a three bar jump, a group of people gasped and laughed as a roulette wheel spun and a couple kissed passionately against the backdrop of a setting sun. 

The image reverted again to the Prios Corps man standing in front of the wall in the mock apartment. He pointed at the Personal Profile option. “Just complete your Personal Profile and the On Circuit system is ready to use.”

Thousands of happy smiling faces filled the wall.

“Remember, you can have anything you want,” crooned the Prios Corps voice over. “Just dial and smile.”

The promo finished and the E-wall reverted to the two original On Circuit options; Use or Help. Chris sat slack jawed in his recliner for several seconds and idly selected ‘Use’. A lively jingle played with people laughing happily in the background as two further options appeared on the wall; Search and Personal Profile. Chris selected Personal Profile and immediately wished he hadn’t. 

Thousands of tiny boxes filled the wall listing everything from personal attributes and hobbies, to more private information about sexual preferences and fantasies. 

A heavy sensation settled in the centre of Chris’ chest as he scrolled down the profile page. He had never been good at talking about himself and didn’t know how to describe himself apart from basic facts about height, weight and eye colour. His interest in sport was limited to watching a few games on the E-wall; he couldn’t even swim. He had no hobbies he could think of; he had only ever read a holobook for pleasure once and hadn’t finished it. At a loss, he scrolled through the profiling sections marking a few boxes but leaving the majority empty. He skipped the sexual preferences section completely and returned to the main menu page. 

Taking a mouthful of Synthbeer Chris selected ‘Search’ and waited. 

The wall filled with faces for a few seconds accompanied by promo music before reverting to a blank block with a single message:

_“There is insufficient Personal Profile information to select a suitable Circuit._

_To find people like you, select and update your Personal Profile before attempting another Search._

_Alternatively, select Random Circuit now.”_

Chris’ mood sunk further. Attempting to complete the Personal Profile had reminded him of being interrogated by Police; lots of questions he had no straight answer for and some, no answer at all. The resultant spot light on the vacuum of his personal life made him even more uncomfortable. It was the last thing he wanted to focus on. His thumb hovered over selecting the Random Circuit option. A brief image of him laying in a pool of blood with his head cut off flashed through his head and a streak of defiance, or stupidity as his step-father had often called it, finally chose for him. He selected the Random Circuit Search option. 

The wall filled with faces and familiar promo music played as the search commenced. The unit quickly made a selection displaying a profile image of a woman in her late 30’s who went by the name of Candy. ‘Accept’ flashed at the bottom of the wall accompanied by a 30 second time out on the search. Chris wrinkled his nose and let the 30 seconds pass. 

Another Random Circuit Search began and in a few seconds another profile image filled the wall; a woman, very young, perhaps too young, with pink hair whose name was Sugar. Chris allowed the 30 seconds to trickle away. 

Watching the results from Random searches was strangely addictive and for the next three hours Chris indulged himself until he ran out of Synthbeer. Crawling off to the kitchen in search of more beer and pain killers he left the unit running. It was still running presenting results from the Random Circuit when he scrambled back into his recliner with a box of Synthbeer under his arm, and in an attempt to avoid standing on his left foot, inadvertently sat on the Vid-Caller obscured by his blanket. 

Chris saw the E-Wall flick to a black block and display a 1 minute timer. 

Realisation struck him cold as his Locator hummed into life. 

Chris swore under his breath and scrabbled for the Vid-Caller sending the pack of Synthbeer sliding off the recliner with an ominous smash.

“Oh fuck. Fuck it.” 

Frantically he pressed buttons on the Vid-Caller and gawped in horror at the timer on the E-wall. Its rapid one minute countdown had commenced and ‘Continue to Accept’ flashed underneath it.

Sixth sense crawled up Chris’ spine telling him he was no longer alone in his apartment. Movement in the Locator alcove confirmed it and adrenaline jolted through him. He let out an involuntary yelp nearly dropping the Vid-Caller.

“Fuck me!” Chris scrabbled upright in the recliner. He swallowed hard in the silent seconds that followed. “You scared the fucking shit out of me,” he breathed.

The guy stood in the Locator alcove regarded Chris with dark eyes under heavy brows. He dug his hands deeper into the pockets of torn black jeans hunching bony shoulders in a seemingly self conscious gesture which caused the scrappy t-shirt he wore under his cloth jacket to ride up slightly and expose a narrow strip of pale skin on his belly. The scuffed rubber soled trainers he wore were torn and near a tear in the neck of his t-shirt, a tattoo curled its way up the side of his neck to disappear behind one ear. One of his brows was pierced with a simple silver ring and his cropped black hair hung in straight greasy locks across his forehead. Overall he was filthy and painfully thin. Everything about him said Trash.

_You can have anything you want._

Chris was transfixed. He had never seen Trash in the flesh before. He had wondered about them, the people inhabiting the most dangerous parts of the city. He had often gazed down upon the floating smog barrier curious about the streets that never saw sunlight and the people who lived there. From the safety of the garden terraces outside his apartment or the comfortable confines of an air car, that part of the city had always seemed so far away. Now a living, breathing piece of it was in his apartment. Thoughts of potential bloody decapitation aside, the idea in reality gave him a thrill. 

Chris glanced at the E-Wall. The minute time-out tumbled towards zero and in less than 10 seconds the Locator would send the Trash back to wherever it had come from. The possibility of the moment slipping through his fingers gave Chris a blind rush of adrenaline and he pressed ‘Accept’ on the Vid-Caller. A new timer flicked on the wall incrementing from zero. The clock for his first On Circuit encounter was running. 

Chris leant forward in the recliner and set the Vid-Caller down carefully on a nearby table. He rubbed suddenly clammy hands on his knees rucking his paper bathrobe and stared at the Locator alcove. The Trash was watching with unwavering intensity. 

“You er.., you wanna hang out?” Chris asked. He swallowed a dry mouth. “Like, just for a little bit?”

The Trash broke off studying Chris and glanced furtively across the lounge. He moved out of the Locator and his trainers squeaked slightly on the tiled floor as he advanced a few steps. 

Chris was mesmerised. There was an air of tension in the way the Trash moved as if he expected to be jumped at any moment and possessed a feral quality that spoke more animal than human. The initial impression given by his lanky frame that he was barely out of his teens altered as he neared a low light in the floor. The illumination threw a face that was closer to 30 years old into high relief and accentuated a sharp stubble covered jaw line. Chris caught the surreptitious look the Trash gave toward the piles of mess on the floor around the recliner and at Chris overall.

“Sorry, this place is a bit of a mess,” said Chris. “I didn’t expect to have, um, company.”

The Trash frowned. 

Chris’ heart hammered in his chest. He gestured nervously toward the nearby sofa recliner and hoped the tremor in his hand wasn’t noticed. “You-you wanna sit down?”

As if the answer was yes, the Trash moved. Chris stared at incredibly thin legs as they carried the Trash quickly across the lounge and wondered how tall the guy actually was.

The Trash lowered himself to the sofa and sat slightly curled over himself. He drew his long legs close together and pressed his hands between his knees as if trying to keep them warm. 

Chris caught another furtive glance the Trash gave to the apartment. It made Chris sympathetically nervous. 

Digging in the fallen box of Synthbeer at the side of the recliner Chris found two bottles broken and a growing pool of beer on the floor. He lifted out two undamaged bottles wiping them dry with the corner of the blanket and looked up to find the Trash watching him. 

“You-you wanna beer?” Chris asked. He held out a bottle towards the Trash who shook his head slightly in the negative. 

Chris set the bottles of beer down and grabbed his Tab box off the floor. That offering was met with the same silent declination and intense dark stare. 

Having exhausted his repertoire of social protocols and more than a little self conscious with the stranger in his apartment, Chris tried a smile. “I’m Chris. Nice to meet you. W-what’s your name?” he asked.

The Trash’s face took on a strange dead quality and his attention dropped to the lounge floor. “Whatever you want it to be,” he said. His voice had an unusual subservient quality.

Chris blurted the first thing that came into his head. “That’s stupid. I mean, you gotta have name right? It’s not like Trash don’t have names. Right?” He leant over the side of the recliner and helped himself to one of the bottles of Synthbeer. He missed the fleetingly dangerous look the Trash shot him from under heavy brows. 

“Yeah I guess you’re right,” said the Trash. He returned to staring at the floor as Chris settled back in the recliner with the beer propped on his hip. 

“So, so, so what is it then, your name?” Chris asked. 

The Trash’s brows appeared to take on a life of their own, moving around until they settled in a pinch. “If you’re On Circuit, you don’t give your real name. It’s supposed to be anonymous,” he said. 

Chris took a mouthful of beer. “Oh Right ok, I get it. Oh—“ He laughed a little too loudly. “So, right. Er.. Well that’s just stupid, I mean, I can’t name you. That would just be weird. Like, like naming a pet.”

The Trash looked everywhere apart from at Chris and dug his hands deeper between his knees. Chris had never been good at reading people but even he could tell an air of suppressed tension was pouring off the guy. The silence was definitely the uncomfortable sort. 

Chris shifted in the recliner picking at the label on his Synthbeer and watched the Trash on the sofa out the corner of his eye. “W-why don’t you choose,” he said finally. “And then y’know, you’ll have a better idea of what you wanna call yourself. Sort of. It’ll make more sense, right?”

The Trash glanced at the timer on the E-Wall and then at Chris. “If you want.” He returned to contemplating the floor. “What about, we call me, ‘Z’.”

“Zee?”

The Trash’s head snapped up. “You don’t like it?” He gave Chris heavy browed look. “You want me to choose a different one?”

Chris shook his head and dragged himself to a sitting position in the recliner. “No, no. I mean, yeah it’s good. Zee’s good, really good. I like it.”

The Trash seemed to weigh Chris before giving a slight nod. “Okay.”

Chris offered a hesitant smile. “Hi Zee. I’m Chris.”

The furtive look returned briefly as the Trash glanced around the lounge and rubbed his hands between his knees. He then looked directly at Chris and the dead quality in his face faded slightly. “Hi,” he said.

The E-Wall bleeped and snatched Chris’ moment of elation out from under him. The On Circuit timer flashed red and an additional 1 minute countdown appeared underneath.

Zee abruptly got to his feet. “I have to go.”

“What? Why? What is this?” Chris flailed in his recliner trying to sit upright and spilled his beer in his lap. “Goddam it. Fuck it.”

Zee had already reached the Locator in several swift long legged strides. “I gotta go. Sorry,” he said.

“Wait a minute. Why do you have to go? I don’t understand?” Chris stared at the E-Wall in complete confusion. “There’s a time limit on this thing?”

Zee dug his hands in the pockets of his jeans and levelled another dark look at Chris. “Sort of. I’m on Reserve,” he said. His brows pinched at the sight of confusion on Chris’ face. “Someone has reserved me? You understand? It means I can’t stay. I have to go.”

Chris glanced at the wall. There was less than 15 seconds left on countdown. He toppled out of the recliner spilling more beer on the floor. “Wait a minute.” 

“I can’t.”

The Locator hummed into life and Zee disappeared. 

The E-Wall bleeped and Chris swore. The timer disappeared replaced by an option to save the On Circuit selection. 

Chris abandoned his bottle of beer and crawled across the floor scattering more empty beer bottles. Kneeling in front of the coffee table he reached for the Vid-Caller and immediately selected save. The wall flicked and a prompt appeared:

_‘Enter name of Favourite:’_

Chris keyed in Zee’s name via the Vid-Caller. He confirmed the entry and another prompt appeared:

_‘Press * to Reserve or # to return to On Circuit.’_

Chris experienced a rush of excitement and without any hesitation chose the Reserve option. The wall flicked and presented a calendar with a banner displaying Zee’s name. Numerous days displayed Not On Circuit whilst others, mostly between the hours of 8pm and 4am, displayed Reserved by Another. Chris scrolled quickly through the blocks of dates and times underneath searching for the first available space and hesitated. He scrolled back up to the block which read ‘Today’ and studied it. The block flashed on and off alternating between the words Reserved by Another and On Circuit. Chris looked at the time. The reservation lasted until 5am the following day and the hours after that were marked as Not On Circuit. The later slot from 4pm on that day had already been reserved. 

Chris bristled with annoyance. He reserved the next available space on Zee’s calendar and with a sense of self satisfaction moved to another. His intention to steadily work through the month until nearly every block available read Reserved by You was immediately cut short. The wall flicked and a message informed him his reservation limit had been reached. 

“What? Fuck this shit.” 

Irritated, Chris chewed the tip of a finger and returned to the current calendar. He stared at the words Reserved by You squashed in between Not On Circuit and Reserved by Another. It would be two days before he would be able to Zee again. 

Anticipation in the immediate moment was altogether very different from the idea of having to wait, and to wait at all for something made Chris jittery. He pulled himself up off the floor beside the recliner and hopped off to the kitchen to down a few Relaxers. The Tabs mixed well with the Synthbeer in his system and Chris steadied himself as his head spun. He caught his reflection in one of the polished kitchen surfaces opposite and grinned. 

“Anything you want,” said his reflection. It pulled open the paper bathrobe and exposed the faded spray pen writing across its chest. “You’re gonna love it.”

Chris laughed and immediately lost his balance. Searing pain shot up his leg as he put his full weight on his injured foot and he twisted violently, flailing his arms and scrabbling against the smooth kitchen surfaces as he tried to find purchase. He found none. Pitching sideways, he head-butted the corner of the kitchen surface with a loud crack and hit floor unconscious.

.....

Only 5 minutes were left. 

Unshaven but at least dressed in his usual dispenser Casual, Chris mentally paced as he sat in the recliner staring between the Locator and the E-Wall. For two days the On Circuit reservation had counted down. He had watched it obsessively through a haze of pain killers and Synthbeer during his waking hours with an ice-pack pressed against the large bruise on his temple. Any thoughts surrounding the incident at the café had been pushed aside. 

Chris pulled himself up in the recliner practising variations of hello inside his head whilst trying to ignore the incessant burning pain in his left foot and put the ice-pack on the floor at the side of the recliner. The timer on the wall flashed as the seconds swiftly passed and he quickly dropped his third Relaxer as the Locator hummed into life. The wall flicked presenting a new timer incrementing from zero and all thoughts about anything vanished.

Zee stepped out of the Locator alcove and gave the apartment the same furtive appraisal as he done on his first visit. He was equally filthy and wearing what appeared to be the same clothes too.

Chris wiped suddenly clammy hands on his knees. “Hi. H-how ya doin’?”

Zee looked Chris over and shrugged. He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans and a small gap of flesh appeared as his t-shirt rode up. “I’m fine,” he said, and returned to looking around the lounge.

Chris had an urge to drop another Calmer. “Er.. you-you wanna sit down, maybe, hang out for a while?” he asked.

Zee fixed Chris with a penetrating stare. “Where do you want me?” 

_You can have anything you want._

Chris’ heart leaped in his chest. Gesturing at the sofa recliner he reached for his Tab box as Zee immediately crossed the lounge in long strides and sat, pushing his hands under the edges of his thighs as he stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. Chris noticed holes on the soles of Zee’s trainers and told himself not to stare. 

Relinquishing to a need, Chris dropped a Calmer and offered Zee the Tab box. It was refused and all the rehearsed conversations of the last two days disappeared in the tense silence leaving Chris wondering whether he had been impulsive putting a reservation on Zee. The initial thrill of having Trash in the apartment wasn’t present this time though Chris was compelled nonetheless to surreptitiously stare at Zee. 

“So er.. how-how’ve you been. You been okay?” ventured Chris. The look Zee shot him made his heart jump again.

“Fine,” said Zee.

Chris cleared his throat and snatched at a piece of rehearsed conversation drifting about in his head. “You..er… you want something to drink, I got Synth if you want it?”

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

Chris glanced at the timer on the wall. Seconds ticked by in absolute silence and Zee took to staring at the floor. 

“Is everything- I mean is anything wrong?” Chris asked with a nervous smile. “You seem a little, I dunno, like, tense, maybe?”

Zee fixed Chris with a look that made Chris think of decapitated heads in disposers. 

“Look Mr, this would be a lot easier if you just told me what you expected me to do,” said Zee. He glanced across the lounge at the doors leading off into other areas of the apartment. “I don’t do guessing games and don’t like surprises, so you can tell your mates or whoever’s waiting in other rooms to come out, unless of course you want to play the surprise game and I’ll look suitably surprised when whatever you want to happen happens, I just want to know what that is in advance, either way I’m sure you’ll, enjoy it, whatever it is you want.”

Chris sat open mouthed in the recliner. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. “What? Surprises? I don’t understand, what, what do you mean? What game?” Zee’s expression darkened and Chris held up a hand. “Wait a minute, there’s no else here. I live alone. You can check if you want if it makes you more comfortable. Feel free, go, go look.”

Instantly Chris wondered whether telling a stranger he was alone was a good idea and whether he would end up with his head in the disposer in the next five minutes as a result. Zee appeared unconvinced and gave the lounge a furtive look. 

“There’s no one else here?” Zee asked. 

Chris emphatically shook his head and tried to release breath trapped in his lungs. “No, no one. I promise. It’s just me and you. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. What, what, game?”

Zee seemed to weigh Chris. “So what’s with the moody lighting and window blinds?”

It was Chris’ turn to look around the lounge. The low lights glowed softly in the black tiled floor and put the majority of the lounge into deep shadow. The door to the bedroom and kitchen were ominous empty blocks leading to apparently no where and the windows curving in a gentle arc at the boundaries of the lounge had their blinds locked shut. 

“Er, well I er, never um, open the window shutters. I prefer, well I dunno, I just kinda leave things like this,” said Chris. “I mean, it’s just my apartment.”

Zee’s brows took on a life of their own disappearing under a few greasy locks of hair. “Are you serious? You’ve a thing for black? It’s like a dungeon in here,” he said.

Chris gulped air. “You don’t like dungeons?”

“Not particularly.”

“Would you feel better if I opened the blinds? You want me to open the blinds?”

“Yeah that’d be a start.”

Chris scrambled awkwardly off the recliner and lurched painfully across the lounge trying to keep his weight off his left foot. There was a minute beep as he pressed the window control and the blades on the blinds rotated horizontally admitting dazzling late afternoon sunlight that bathed the lounge hot orange.

Chris screwed his eyes shut against the glare and the blinds on the windows raised and retracted. When he opened his eyes again blinking against the light, Zee was standing beside the sofa recliner with a hand raised shielding his own eyes from the sun. He looked even thinner in the daylight and dirtier, skin as pale as parchment in stark contrast to his dark hair and clothing. The dead expression on his face however had been replaced by quite astonishment. 

“Is that better?” Chris asked. 

Zee’s hand floated away from his face and he walked slowly to the windows. He appeared transfixed by the view and Chris shielded his own eyes as he looked curiously out to the stepped terraces of the garden beyond his apartment. Strips of clouds in the otherwise clear afternoon sky hovered on the edge of pink and the pale blue sky itself was saturated with a honey colour from the setting sun. 

Chris propped himself against the wall favouring his foot. “Er.. are you ok there?” he asked. . 

Zee placed a hand carefully on the window. “Where the hell is this?”

Chris screwed his eyes shut briefly at the blinding sunlight and grinned. “High Towers. Tower number 8 actually, south side.”

Half of Zee’s face turned to shadow as he looked across at Chris. “I’m in High Towers?”

Chris’ grin broadened as Zee looked back out of the window. “Yeah. Where else did you think you were?” Chris asked. His question was met with a silent shake of a head. Bemused by Zee’s reaction he laughed. “What’s the matter? You don’t like heights?”

“I’ve never seen the sun before,” said Zee. 

Chris’ mouth hung open. “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

Zee appeared to be deliberately trying to keep his eyes open, blinking repeatedly against the glare and levelled another one of his penetrating stares at Chris. 

“You really haven’t seen it before?” Chris asked.

“No,” said Zee quietly. He looked back out of the window at the sky trying to absorb the scale of what was in front of him. “It’s real? Not a holo-image or anything like that?”

Genuinely shocked Chris scratched his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, yeah it’s real. You wanna go outside?”

“You can go outside?” Zee planted both hands on the window and appeared to grow several inches taller at the possibility of getting beyond the glass. 

Chris lurched past Zee to the centre of the window arc and touched the mechanism on the frame. A blast of cold afternoon air filled the lounge as the window panel slid gracefully open and Zee’s intake of breath was audible as he wrapped his arms around his chest pulling his thin jacket together. 

“It’s cold,” said Zee.

“It’s fucking freezing,” said Chris. “But be my guest.” He waved a gracious hand out toward the garden terraces flushing as he caught the scent of stale sweat and a fragrance he didn’t recognize when Zee hesitantly stepped past him. 

“Are the plants real?” Zee asked, stepping down between the greenery. 

A genuine pleasure swept through Chris at the sight of Zee wide eyed. Remaining just inside the window he shivered in his paper clothing. 

“Yeah they’re real too. Everything’s real,” said Chris. “I don’t get out here much because, like, it’s always freezing this high up. I got a parasol heater I could put out here if I wanted to but, most days it’s pretty cold. It only gets really warm in the middle of summer and on a day when there’s no wind. It’s a downside to living in High Towers.”

Zee was touching everything, running his fingers through fern fronds hanging over the side of a planter and experimentally prodding damp earth underneath. He gave Chris an inscrutable look and ventured further down the terraces. 

A strong gust of cold air cut through Chris’ clothing. “Jesus. Look you’re gonna freeze to death if you stay out there.”

Zee glanced back over his shoulder. Chris thought he almost smiled. 

“It’s worth it,” said Zee, and disappeared through some greenery on a lower terrace. 

“Hang on a minute I’ll be right back,” shouted Chris. Filled with excitement at the novelty of Zee, he lurched off as quickly as he could to his bedroom and set to dragging storage boxes out of the wardrobe. Returning to the lounge with a thick blanket that smelled of its long confinement, he ground to a halt at the window and froze. 

Zee stood on top of garden terrace’s parapet balancing with his arms outstretched. Gusts of wind whipped at his clothing and it looked to Chris at any moment he would fall. The horror of the café incident flooded anew through Chris and he let out a panicked squeak and scrambled onto the garden terrace. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Zee looked over his shoulder and precariously turned round on the parapet to face Chris. He grinned. “This is great.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed up there,” said Chris. A tremor ran through him and he gripped the side of a planter as a gust of wind caught Zee making him wobble alarmingly before regaining his balance. 

“It’s worth it,” said Zee. He cat footed along the edge of the parapet to the far side using his arms as a balance and leaned out over the edge. “It’s really high up here.”

“Get down, just get down now,” said Chris.

“What’s that down there?” Zee asked, and pointed to something. “It looks like a dome.”

Chris dragged himself down through the terraces towards Zee. “Get down, please get down,” he said. 

Zee looked back over his shoulder squinting in the sunlight and pointed out over the edge of the parapet. “Do you know what that is down there?” He frowned as Chris fell past a planter. “Are you okay?”

Chris appeared through greenery short of meter away from Zee and extended a hand towards him. “Don’t. Please. Get down. It’s really dangerous,” he said.

Wind whipped at Zee, lifting his jacket up his back and threw his hair into his eyes. He appeared not to understand and looked back into the full glare of the sun. “I’m fine,” he said eventually. “Don’t worry.” 

A second later he jumped down off the parapet back to the safety of the garden terrace. 

Lightheaded Chris rested his head against the planter and saw Zee’s broken trainers come into view. “Don’t ever do that again,” said Chris, and glanced up. 

Zee had his hands dug into the pockets of his jeans and the slightly dead expression in his face had returned. His shoulders hunched exposing the slip of ivory skin as his t-shirt rode up and Chris dragged his eyes away from the gooseflesh risen on his hip. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” said Zee. The wind gusted again catching his hair throwing it into his eyes. 

“That’s ok. I just got a thing about heights,” said Chris. He unwrapped bunched fists from the blanket and held it out towards Zee. “Here I got you this, you’re cold.” 

Zee draped the blanket around himself pulling it close and sniffed at it as he brought it under his chin. “I didn’t know if heights bothered me. I wanted to find out,” he said.

“Yeah well, now you know,” said Chris. He shivered as a blast of cold air cut through his thin paper clothes. 

Zee squinted against the sunlight and returned to the edge of the terrace. He glanced back over his shoulder at Chris. “By here’s okay right?”

Chris huddled his arms around his body. “Yeah that’s fine. Just no—“ He stopped himself short from saying jumping. The memory of the woman with yellow hair laying broken across the café table was replaced by Zee laying in a broken heap. Chris screwed his eyes shut. “I’m gonna go back inside if that’s okay with you,” he said.

“You want me to come back in?” asked Zee. He looked back toward Chris who was already making a hobbling retreat up the terraces. 

Chris winced as pain shot up his calves and propped himself against a planter. “No, no, not at all,” he said, fixing his eyes on ground. “Stay out here as long as you want just, don’t die of cold for fuck’s sake. And no climbing.” He heaved himself up the final steps of the terrace into the lounge and touched the window mechanism. A cold blast of air cut off as the window closed behind him. 

Heavily dosed with a mixture of Calmers and Relaxers, Chris watched Zee from the comfort of a recliner in the lounge and turned to thinking about whether he had spoken the truth about never seeing the sun. It seemed odd to Chris that a person could live their whole life without ever seeing the light of day and he wondered about what kind of life Zee had out of sight below the city’s smog barrier.

Zee stayed on the garden terraces until the sky turned violet and Venus sparkled white low on the horizon. 

A light tap on the window caught Chris’ attention and dragged him out of reverie. Zee stood the other side of the glass with the blanket wrapped tight around him and waved at Chris. Sliding out of the recliner Chris hobbled painfully to open the window and freezing air followed Zee as he stepped inside sporting a red nose. 

“It’s getting really cold out there,” said Zee, and sniffed as Chris closed the window. “Thanks for letting me stay out there that long.”

Chris could feel cold emanating off Zee. “I’m amazed you didn’t freeze to death out there,” he said.

Zee’s nose seemed to glow in answer and there was light behind his eyes. “Well, you only live once,” he said.

A flash of memory brought the woman with yellow hair briefly to the front of Chris’ mind. “Yeah I guess you’re right,” he said. He limped awkwardly away from the window and crawled into the recliner favouring his left foot which throbbed persistently. 

Zee came and perched with a knee on the edge of the sofa recliner opposite Chris and glanced at the On Circuit timer on the wall. “I guess, you want to tell me what you want me to do now,” he said. 

Tentatively lifting the edge of the bandage on his foot Chris looked up to find the dead quality had returned to Zee’s face. 

“What did you just say?” Chris asked. 

Zee adjusted the blanket around himself and slid onto the sofa recliner. “I said, ‘I guess you want to tell me what you want me—“

“Yeah that’s what I thought you said,” interrupted Chris. His foot rested forgotten on the recliner. “You said that earlier. What do you mean?”

Zee rubbed the end of his nose on the sleeve of his jacket and sniffed. “I mean, you tell me what you want me to do.” He coughed and dug into the blanket. 

Utterly lost Chris shook his head. “I don’t understand. What are you expecting me to tell you to do?” he asked.

Zee’s brows came alive and disappeared under the hair straggling into his eyes. “Well, I don’t know, I don’t do guessing games remember. I don’t know what your kink is,” he said.

Sweat heat crawled up between Chris’ shoulder blades. “My what?”

“I thought you might be into pain games or something,” said Zee. He gestured to Chris’ feet and signalled to the side of his own brow. 

Chris delicately touched the shiny bruise at his own temple. 

Zee continued. “That’s why I thought there might be other people here, hiding. I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t know what your kink is so I just assumed with the dark apartment and you looking like you do you were into pain play and had set up a scene for something like that.”

Chris’ brain did a back flip and landed heavily. Avoiding Zee’s heavy stare he reached for his Tab box and dropped a Calmer. “I don’t have a kink, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I fell over in the kitchen after you left the other day, because of my feet actually, I trod on some broken glass a few days ago.”

“Okay. So pain’s not your kink then,” said Zee. “But you put me on Reserve so you must want something. It’s not like you brought me here to show me your plants and let me look at the view.” 

_You can have anything you want_.

Chris fiddled with his Tab box in his lap and his hands took on a life of their own. “I just thought we could hang out,” he said. “You know, just, hang out.” 

Zee dropped his chin forcing him to look at Chris from under heavy brows. “While you pay me by the minute?” His attention flicked briefly to the On Circuit timer on the wall. 

Chris gripped his knees. “Yeah. Why not? Like, we could talk. Say like, you could tell me about what it’s like where you live and what you do and where you go and then I –“

“No,” said Zee. Adrenaline shot through Chris as Zee’s expression hardened. “On Circuit is anonymous. All I do is turn up and you tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

“But I’m interested,” said Chris. 

“About Trash? Then take a fucking air car down to the Lowers and find out for yourself,” said Zee. He sniffed repeatedly and rubbed his nose on his sleeve again. 

Several uncomfortable silent minutes passed. 

Chris mentally raked through a meagre repertoire of conversation starters searching for something to regain the moment and reflexive denial pushed any ideas associated with what Zee had said about having a kink out of his head. The relaxed Zee who had returned from the garden terraces had reverted to the Zee who had initially arrived in the apartment and he stared at his triners poking out from under the blanket. Chris could feel the tension sat opposite him.

“You do know what On Circuit is used for, don’t you?” Zee asked. 

The question caught Chris by surprise and he looked at Zee who continued to stare down at his trainers. 

“Meeting people you-- who you want to meet. Hanging out. Sociable stuff,” said Chris. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew he was being vague and wanted desperately to change the subject. 

“Sex,” said Zee, and fixed Chris with a dead eyed gaze. “It’s used for sex. And pretty much anything that goes with that depending on the kink people are into. Do you understand?” He slowly pulled the blanket off his shoulders and opened it aware that Chris was trying not to stare. 

“Yeah I understand,” said Chris and dropped his attention into his lap. Zee moved in the corner of his eye leaning an arm along the back of the sofa recliner.

“Do you? Then what does that make me?” Zee asked.

Chris picked at thumbnail. The tone of Zee’s voice made his ears burn. “I er..I don’t know exactly,” he said.

Zee lifted his hand from the back of the sofa recliner and rubbed a finger across one of his brows. Pulling gently at his brow ring, he studied the curious stranger opposite him whose face had flushed red right to the tips of his ears and whose remarkably blue eyes studiously avoided his own.

“It makes me a prostitute,” said Zee, and watched the colour in his host’s cheeks deepen. 

Seconds on the On Circuit timer flicked past becoming minutes as Chris tried in vain to compose himself and avoid looking at Zee. He could feel eyes on him however which made the heat crawling between his shoulder blades intensify until it slithered up the back of his neck and Chris watched the room spin.

 _You can have anything you want._

“You don’t look so good,” said Zee. He leaned forward in the recliner trying to catch Chris’ eye setting off a new wave of heat crawling over Chris.

Chris rubbed a hand over his face. The room seemed to press on him and the illumination from low lights in the floor intensified. “I’m just, I’m not—“

When Chris opened his eyes again Zee’s concerned face hovered over him. 

“How are you feeling?” asked Zee. 

Chris blinked and caught his reflection in the ceiling sprawled on the floor next to the recliner and Zee knelt beside him. Curls from another tattoo poked out of the top of Zee’s jeans where his t-shirt had ridden up exposing the strip of flesh low on his back. The smell of him was all around, sweat and a musk fragrance Chris couldn’t recognise. 

Zee placed his hand on Chris’ shoulder and squeezed. “Hey. Can you hear me? Can you talk?”

“Yeah, yeah I can hear you, I’m okay,” said Chris, and swallowed a dry mouth. 

“You don’t look okay,” said Zee.

“I passed out didn’t I,” said Chris. His body hummed strangely and the warmth from Zee’s hand bled through his paper shirt. Embarrassment began to rise.

Zee nodded and Chris felt cool finger tips press against the pulse in his throat. 

“Yeah you did. I think we’d better get you to an OP and get you checked out,” said Zee. 

“No, no, no, no hospital,” said Chris. “Please. I really hate those places.”

“Well I’m sorry but I’m not comfortable with you laying on the floor while you pay me by the minute,” said Zee, and looked down Chris’ body. “People don’t usually pass out when I tell them I’m a prostitute.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be okay,” said Chris. Lifting himself onto his elbows he attempted to mentally force his body to respond. Suddenly it did, floating underneath him as Zee lifted him into the recliner and from some distant, half disembodied place, Chris watched the room move around him and heard himself speak. 

“Actually now you come to mention it, perhaps you’re right.”

Zee’s scent and the presence of a confident touch at his shoulders enveloped Chris. An arm wrapped around Chris’ waist and one of his own was lifted, the firm grip from Zee’s cool fingers around his wrist. Zee was suddenly close, warmth and musk, and the room rose as Chris was lifted off the recliner. Chris surrendered to the body pressed into his and stared at the tattoo on Zee’s neck that was incredibly close. 

“Where’s the nearest OP?” Zee asked. “Chris?”

The arm around Chris squeezed a little tighter and a bony hip dug into his own. Chris blinked as the Locator panel appeared in front of him and watched his own hand float as it punched in an address. He thought he heard himself say yes and then something else. 

Zee’s face turned toward him and Chris watched Zee’s mouth hover inches away from his own. 

“Stop apologising,” said Zee’s mouth. It smiled and turned away from Chris.

The Locator hummed into life and Chris and Zee vanished in the Locator leaving the On Circuit timer running on the E-Wall in the empty apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

Chewing what was left of the nail on his little finger and sporting the beginnings of a beard Chris sat on his favourite recliner in front of the E-Wall and watched the minutes count down until Zee’s next scheduled arrival. He wondered what he was going to say. 

The embarrassing events of the previous encounter had left Chris nursing a sore spot on his dignity and more perplexing, a strange sense of abandonment. Zee had disappeared leaving Chris in a cubical at the OP, and when the treatment was completed, Chris had no explanation to give to the nurse about how he came to be there. Discharged from the OP a day later, the only evidence Zee had been in the apartment at all was the blanket laying on the sofa recliner. Chris took the blanket to bed with him that night. 

The following morning Chris sat for hours on the garden terraces in the freezing cold until rain forced him inside, and spent the remainder of the afternoon staring through the window from the warm comfort of his recliner. The blanket was a constant companion. 

Grappling with irreconcilable feelings over the reality of On Circuit, he returned over and over again to the confusion Zee seemed to have stirred up inside him. Finally unsure of his own intentions, he had been compelled nonetheless to place another reservation on Zee.

Zee appeared in the Locator looking his same dishevelled self and immediately knocked a half wave at Chris. 

“Hi,” said Zee. Taking a few steps into the lounge, he gestured at the windows. “No dungeon theme today.” 

Chris fought to keep an instant urge to grin under control and sat up in the recliner. “No I thought I’d go for the grey, rainy washed out look today.”

Zee pursed his lips and dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Okay. That works for me. Are we going to sit around and be suitably depressed too?”

Chris feigned nonchalance and pointed at his bandaged feet hanging over the end of the recliner. “Well it’s not exactly fun and games here. I’ve got plenty to mope about,” he said. Reaching down to the side of the recliner he picked up a pair of crutches and waved them around. 

“I noticed,” said Zee taking a few round about steps nearer to Chris. He pouted a little and cocked his head to the side. “You’ll never dance again, but look on the bright side, at least they didn’t cut your feet off.”

“Yeah,” laughed Chris, scratching at the growth on his face. “Or my head.” A flush of heat crawled up his neck as Zee smiled and Chris gestured to the sofa recliner with one of his crutches. 

“That reminds me, I was going to ask you. Er. I mean, why did you, um, well I hope nothing was wrong. When I came to in the OP, you weren’t there?” asked Chris, dropping his crutches to the side of the recliner. A sense of abandonment threatened to return and irrational rejection at the potential of hearing Zee’s reasons for leaving.

Zee shrugged as he sat down and dug his hands between his knees. “Don’t take it personally, but as much as I like looking at a nice ass, I thought I’d save you the embarrassment of me standing around to watch a nurse stick needles in yours. No offence but, y’know how it is.” 

“That’s really decent of you,” said Chris, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” said Zee, and nonchalantly spread his arms out along the back of the sofa. “We can always save the ass looking bit for later when you’re feeling a better, if you want.” He smiled at the open mouth opposite and the flush creeping further up Chris’ throat. “Besides, I was on Reserve, I had to go, otherwise I would’ve stayed,” he evaded smoothly, and received an innocent accepting nod from Chris. “You scared the shit out of me when you fell.”

“Sorry,” said Chris. It earned him a slight wag of a finger from the back of the sofa recliner. 

“You apologise too much,” said Zee. “I’ve seen people in far worse states. So what was wrong with you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Chris took the opportunity to focus on something other than Zee and leant down to pick at his bandaged feet. “Oh I had er, some glass stuck in my foot and kind of an infection, and I had a residual concussion from my fall the other day.” He touched the greening bruise at his temple. “And I’d er..drunk too much Synth too, so, that’s partly responsible for why I er.. passed out.”

“Partly?” Zee smiled at Chris’ skulking. “Naughty,” he added, and wagged his finger.

Chris flushed furiously wanting to squirm in the recliner and was sure he detected a dark glint in Zee’s eyes. “Yeah, I er.. over did it a bit. I gotta take it easy for a few days,” he said. 

“Mm.” Zee pulled at his brow ring mulling over something pushing against his better judgement. 

Chris startled as Zee stood abruptly. 

“So, what do we do on rainy days when we are taking it easy?” Zee asked. Digging his hands in the pockets of his jeans he took several long legged strides to the window. 

“Do you want to go outside again?” Chris asked. 

Zee shook his head and leant a shoulder against the window. “No thank you, cold and wet is not my thing,” he said. Strolling along the arc of the window he began to pace around the lounge. He stopped in the middle of the floor. “There is a lot of, space in here,” he said, and flung open his arms turning 360 degrees.

Chris swivelled round in the recliner and hung over its back. “Yeah, I er, I er, should have a dining table really but there’s, um, no point. I can’t stand entertaining. I never bring anyone back to the apartment anyway. I mean, I never have any guests,” he said. “Sort of, well not really.”

The gap of flesh between Zee’s t-shirt and the top of his jeans had taken on a teasing quality and demanded Chris’ attention. 

“I thought you liked to hang out,” said Zee, pulling faces at his own reflection in the ceiling. 

“I do, it’s just, well y’know. High Towers isn’t known for its interesting people,” said Chris, and concentrated on the leather edge of the recliner. “I mean they’re okay, the people I do know, they’re just, well, I wouldn’t hang out with them.”

“What’s through here?”

Zee was on the far side of the lounge poking his head through a doorway. 

“Er.. the kitchen. Not much in there, but take a look if you want, I don’t mind,” said Chris. He really didn’t, in fact, he was enjoying Zee’s company immensely, though why he wasn’t quite sure. 

Zee wore an inscrutable expression as he peered through the door. “You keep the dead bodies somewhere else in the dungeon don’t you.” Grinning back at Chris he disappeared through the door and it took a moment for Chris to laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, gotta keep the place clean,” said Chris. Scrambling up from the recliner he stuffed his crutches under his arms and hopped across the lounge to lean against the kitchen doorway.

In the kitchen, Zee slowly ran his fingers over an immaculate counter and glanced at Chris’ reflection in one of the cupboards opposite. 

“What do you do in a kitchen this large?” Zee asked. 

“Well, I dunno, prepare stuff I suppose,” said Chris, and grinned as Zee surreptitiously opened and peered around the edge of a cupboard door.

“With what? There’s nothing in here, Chris.” Zee said, and tucked a finger under another cupboard edge and opened it. “Ah-ha, what is this?” He pulled out a box of Vitamin Tabs and sniffed at the contents. 

“Breakfast,” said Chris and hopped further into the kitchen to lean against the centre counter. “And lunch and dinner and whatever else.” He laughed at Zee’s speculative raised brow. “And I eat out a lot. Or order in. I wouldn’t know how to prepare organics even if I tried.”

Zee closed the cupboard on the Vitamin Tabs and dusted his hands on his jeans. “It’s all very shiny in here, and black. I think you’ve definitely got a thing for black Chris,” he said and leaned close to his reflection in a cupboard door. 

Chris laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Never let a designer have free reign over your apartment,” he said. “They have weird ideas.”

“Thanks for the advice. Next time I’m thinking of having a personal designer come round I’ll bear that in mind. What’s through there?” Zee asked, pointing to another doorway. 

“Go take a look, find out,” said Chris. “Don’t let me spoil your adventure.” 

Zee sauntered through the kitchen out of a doorway and Chris hopped back out into the lounge. Leaning against the wall he caught Zee’s reflection as it appeared in the black glass wall opposite and enjoyed a moment observing Zee’s unselfconscious exploration before Zee noticed him. 

Zee poked his head around the edge of the wall. “Back in the lounge. So exciting,” he said. Chris shrugged as Zee continued to hang his head around the corner of the wall. “Are you watching me?” He smiled as heat crept into Chris’ cheeks and pointed at another door. At Chris’ wordless nod Zee proceeded up shallow steps and at his proximity, low lights flared in the floor just beyond the doorway. He hovered on the threshold as Chris teetered on crutches a few paces behind. 

“A bedroom?” asked Zee. Chris nodded wordlessly. “Your bedroom?” Chris nodded again. “Don’t tell me. This is where you keep the skeletons, right?” 

Nervous laughter tried to strangle Chris. Zee grinned and wandered into the bedroom. 

Stark and utilitarian, the only sign of life in the room was the unmade bed, its black sheets hanging over the side. Zee recognised the blanket he had used on his last visit curled around a pillow. It set him to thinking about his host. The guy hadn’t made a pass at him, yet, and in fact seemed almost reluctant to do anything other than watch. Zee found his curiosity genuinely piqued by the strange behaviour, but if the guy was happy to pay by the hour he was happy to take the money without question. The only problem was, the less Chris demanded of him, the more questions arose in Zee’s head. He wondered if the guy was a clever game player, he wouldn’t be the first he had met, but everything told him to discard the notion. Chris’ openness, almost naïve quality didn’t fit game players, and the coyness appeared genuine. He decided Chris was definitely hiding something.

Zee glanced up at his reflection in the bedroom’s black glass ceiling and at Chris’ standing in the doorway, watching as usual. 

“You normally keep the blinds shut in here too?” asked Zee. He leant a knee on the bed testing the firmness of the mattress and caught Chris’ eyes darting everywhere. 

“Yeah I do, I can’t sleep otherwise,” said Chris “But you’re more than welcome to open them.” He pointed one of his crutches to the control on the window frame. 

Zee’s trainers squeaked on the tiled floor as he spun on his toes and took an extravagant stride to the window. At his touch on the control the blinds lifted soundlessly on window arc surrounding the bed and Zee looked out over the windswept garden terrace below as daylight made the low lights in the bedroom dim. 

“This is really beautiful,” said Zee. The same airy quality he had experienced out on the terrace during his last visit returned and he took a deep slow breath. “I don’t think I could ever tire of looking at this. It’s so relaxing, don’t you think?” 

Chris’ reflection in the window came and stood on the opposite side of the bed and looked out at the rain pouring in torrents. 

“Yeah, it can be I suppose, in a way,” said Chris. “I guess I’m used to looking at it so, I don’t really pay much attention to it.”

Zee turned away from the window. Digging his hands in his jeans, he circled the bed in slow methodical steps and came to a stop effectively cutting off Chris’ route of escape.  
His actions induced a suitable wide eyed expression on Chris’ face confirming certain suspicions about he had about his host and equally raising more. 

“What’s through there?” Zee asked, indicating another doorway with a slight nod of his head. He didn’t allow Chris out from under his gaze however preferring to study every nuance. 

Unnerved by Zee, Chris wobbled on his crutches and flexed his sweating grip around the hand holds. “The er, that’s the bathroom,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Nothing much in there, really.”

Zee slowly shook his head and balanced on the tips of his toes. “Nothing much? You do know that I have to go and look now you’ve said that. After all, you might be hiding something and don’t want me to see,” he said. “You’re not hiding something are you?” Not for the first time he wondered if he was enjoying Chris’ reactions a little too much. Chris appeared genuinely flustered

“No, no, I’ve nothing to hide,” said Chris. His voice sounded a little high even to himself and as Zee teetered apparently ready to lunge at any second, Chris’ breath involuntarily caught in his throat.

Zee halted his overbalance at the last moment, twisting on his toes and bounced over to the bathroom door. Hanging off the doorframe by one hand he threw Chris a guilt inducing look and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Chris released air trapped in his lungs and wiped sweaty palms on the front of his paper shirt. Having Zee in such close proximity without the aid of his usual heavy dose of Tabs was like being in a room with an untamed animal, thrilling and scary at the same time. 

“Oh my god,” came Zee’s voice. 

With a rush of anxiety, Chris hopped over to stand in the bathroom doorway. Zee stood in the middle of the bathroom. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Chris. 

“This isn’t a bathroom. This is a lounge with a toilet in it. Two actually,” said Zee.

“That’s a bidet,” said Chris. 

“You could get fifty people in here,” said Zee. He disappeared around a frosted partition. 

Chris hopped further into the bathroom. “Yeah I guess,” he said. “It’s pretty big I suppose.”

“I’ve never seen a bath so big. You could get ten people in there all at once,” Zee said.

Catching sight of his own grinning reflection in a mirrored surface gave Chris a nasty chill of self consciousness. Zee emerged out from behind the partition with a brow raised that appeared to say what the hell as he pointed at a soft recliner with lots of cushions. 

Chris shrugged. “Designers.” It earned him a hard stare from Zee. “If you think the bath is big check out the shower,” said Chris, and gestured with one of his crutches across the room. 

“That’s a shower?” Zee crossed the bathroom to the deep alcove in the wall. “I thought it was just the shape of the room.” 

“Wait a minute,” said Chris, and hobbled over the shower. “Actually I was hiding something. Hang on.”

The bright lights in the bathroom dimmed as Chris ran his fingers over the control panel in the wall leaving only a subtle blue glow from every surface. Zee jumped back as the shower come on, the illumination in the glass ceiling turning the pouring deluge a glistening silver blue against the black tiles. 

Chris caught a familiar scent of sweat and something distinctly male as Zee took a step closer to the shower. 

“What do you think?” asked Chris quietly. Blue light caught Zee’s face in profile and Chris thought he appeared as transfixed as he had been by the sun. 

“You have water.” 

Chris laughed. “What?”

“Trash don’t have water. We can afford it. We only have Synth,” said Zee.

Chris could tell by the tone of Zee’s voice the playful teasing had gone and the dead quality had returned. Whether deliberate or not, a tiny glimpse of Zee’s life opened up in front of Chris. Under the reflected extent of his own ignorance Chris hung his head and watched water disappear down the shower’s centre drain. 

Zee shrugged off his cloth jacket and let it drop to the floor and Chris heard an immediate intake of breath as Zee put his hand under the falling water. 

“It feels like warm rain,” said Zee quietly. 

Enthralled by Zee’s reaction, Chris could only mumble agreement and adjusted the shower’s control panel turning up the temperature. Steam began to rise and touched Chris’ face. Zee’s hand appeared to hover under the silvery cascade, fingers spread wide allowing a pool of water to grow on the palm. It then dropped as Zee awkwardly toed off his trainers kicking them aside and Chris’ stopped short of voicing objection as Zee walked barefoot but otherwise fully clothed into the deluge. Bathed in thousands of silver blue droplets as they caught the light from the ceiling illumination, Zee turned his face into the downpour and Chris watched Zee’s t-shirt soak through until it clung to his thin frame.

“You’re getting really, er.. wet,” whispered Chris. 

Zee turned in profile to look at Chris. Water poured off the ends of his hair into his eyes and he rubbed a hand over his face, pushing back his hair. As if in silent answer to Chris, he lifted the edges of his t-shirt and dragged it over his head. It hung in his hands until it slopped to the floor beside him gathering a reservoir of silver blue water around his feet and he thumbed the top of his jeans, pulling against the buttons which popped slowly one after the other. 

Chris turned around abruptly. Mirrored in every black tiled surface, Zee’s reflection sunk its hands inside its jeans exposing bony hips and the beginnings of a trail of dark hair widened against translucent skin as Zee pushed his jeans lower. 

“There’s er..a er.. dispenser over here, um.” Chris hopped across the bathroom and fumbled with a paper bath robe. “When you’re done, you can—“

A slop as Zee’s jeans landed on the floor outside the shower dragged Chris’ attention across the bathroom. Partially obscured by condensation growing on reflective surfaces, the sinuous length of Zee’s body turned exposing a tattoo feathered across the base of its spine and curling down the edge of its thigh. 

“I’ll er… leave it here for you,” said Chris. The sound of falling water was the only answer he received. Zee’s reflection turned again sending Chris lurching toward the bathroom door. 

“Take as long as you need, no rush. I’m fine, I’ll er, be in the lounge,” said Chris. 

“Mr Chris?”

Chris froze in the doorway. “Yeah.”

“Is it ok if I use some of your stuff here?”

Chris hesitantly peered around the edge of his shoulder back into the bathroom. “Yeah, yeah help yourself.”

A vague reflection moved in one of the steamed mirrors. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” breathed Chris, and fled in search of his Tab box.

Zee remained lost in the new sensation of hot stinging droplets against bare skin until he could no longer discern the difference between the temperature of his body and the surrounds. Startled again by hot dry air as he touched the shower panel to turn off the water, he stood enjoying the novelty Chris’ apartment afforded until the tiles under his feet dried. Retrieving his clothes from the floor, he wrung out his t-shirt and laid it over the bathroom’s vanity counter next to his damp jeans and raked a hand through his unruly hair in front of one of the many mirrors. 

The sound of entertainment channels from the E-Wall in the lounge drifted into the bathroom. 

Zee smiled to himself. His host intrigued him all the more for being absent, and he wondered again whether he understood the signs and signals which seemed to exude out of every pore of Chris’ body. His gaydar said his host was gay, or at least extremely curious, whether Chris was able to admit that much was a lingering question. The trip to the OP had confirmed much, Chris’ hands had unconsciously ventured all over Zee’s body and yet the opportunity to indulge any potential voyeuristic kink whilst Zee had been in the shower, had been rejected. The matter set Zee to thinking again. He had to admit, Chris’ behaviour made him almost relaxed. Unlike being with other Users, he experienced none of the usual trepidation associated with an unknown whilst in Chris’ company, nor the impending sense of usury from cold impersonal instructions to function and provide empty sexual gratification. Chris made no demands and voiced no expectations. 

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror Zee was left pondering a single question: what did Chris want? 

A change in the background noise from the lounge snatched Zee’s attention. Although he couldn’t hear what was being said, Chris was definitely talking to someone else who had arrived in the apartment. 

Zee looked back to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. So this was it. The time had come. The User had invited whoever it was he wanted, to do whatever it was he wanted to be done. They were waiting in lounge and no doubt the User would sit by and watch, possibly from the recliner he was so fond of sitting in. The set up was complete, the Reserve had been suitably enticed into the specially prepared environment and allowed to make itself comfortable. The prelude was finished, and the Reserve showered and clean ready for the main act. 

Zee isolated his emotions and reached for his jacket. Digging through its pockets he scattered a crinkled tube of lube and a few condoms across the vanity counter. Chris’ distinctive laugh drifted into the bathroom followed by the squeak from the rubber studs on Chris’ crutches as he moved around in the lounge. 

With familiar resignation Zee lifted a knee propping it against the counter and set about prepping himself. Coarse laughter drifted to the bathroom. 

Mechanically washing his hands Zee used the paper bath robe Chris had left on the side to dry them, discarding it in a crumpled ball on the counter and took a look at himself in the bathroom mirror. Completing a brief and final mental preparation for what was to come, he raked fingers through his hair, grabbed the condoms off the counter and walked into the bedroom. 

Zee lingered at the bedroom door and listened to voices coming from the kitchen. It was definitely another male who had arrived and who possessed the deep rough voice that implicitly spoke of strength and brutality. At movement in the kitchen doorway, Zee withdrew, concealing himself behind the bedroom door. Peering through the hinge gap he watched a guy emerge from the kitchen followed by Chris. The guy appeared in his late fifties, considerably overweight and Zee suppressed personal revulsion at the idea of the guy’s flesh against his own. Chris was jovial and shared a friendly banter with guy. They appeared to know each other well. The large guy slapped Chris heavily on the back, roughly tugged at Chris’ sparse beard and to Zee’s surprise stepped into the Locator and disappeared. Wearing a smile Chris hopped back into the kitchen on his crutches and Zee strained his hearing attempting to understand the strange sounds which followed. 

Preoccupied in the kitchen, Chris lifted his nose out of a brown paper bag and yelped in surprise. Zee stood in the kitchen doorway with the lower half of his body covered by a black bed sheet tucked roughly around his waist and slung low on his hips. With his hair pushed back out of his eyes, Chris thought Zee’s heavy browed stare seemed all the more powerful and his pale skin remarkably striking against the black surrounds. 

“Hey there,” said Chris. “H-How er- You enjoy the shower?”

Zee’s attention darted between Chris and the kitchen counters littered with brown bags. Strange aromas hung in the air. 

“Yes,” said Zee.

Chris fiddled nervously with the edge of a paper bag. “You’re er…wearing my er.. the –you’re not dressed, much.”

“My clothes are wet. I heard voices,” said Zee.

Chris decided Zee’s increasingly daggered stare meant a debate on paper bathrobes was out of the question. “Yeah I er, thought you might be hungry,” Chris said thumbing the edge of a paper bag. “I mean, I was hungry, so I thought I’d get something in.” 

The bed sheet whispered across the tiled floor as Zee advanced into the kitchen and stood the other side of the centre counter. 

“That guy, was a delivery guy?” Zee asked finally.

Chris thought Zee appeared curious but also slightly on edge. “Yeah, yeah, he’s a friend of mine, sort of. Why who did you think it was?”

“No one,” said Zee, offered a little shrug and to Chris’ relief, dropped his attention to the kitchen counter.

Chris busied himself lifting cartons out of paper bags surreptitiously watching Zee from various angles the kitchen surfaces afforded. The feather tattoo on the base of Zee’s spine tantalizingly poked above the edge of the black sheet, and the extent of the tattoo on his neck was clearly visible as it spiralled its way down over a shoulder blade. 

“Well anyway, he er, runs a restaurant down in mid quarter, er, that’s kind of down on the arcade side below High Towers. Good place to eat, I like it. Chineglish food, all made with organics too,” said Chris, and opened a carton. 

The aroma of something sweet yet tangy made Zee’s mouth water. “This is more than I would eat in a week,” he said.

Chris hesitated as he lifted the lid off another carton and surveyed the cluttered counter. “Yeah well, er, I wasn’t sure what you liked, so er.. I got everything,” he said. Zee’s brows rose sharply and Chris laughed. “Georgio did me a bit of everything, half size orders. It’s not that much food really.”

“Of course not, just a lot of it,” said Zee, and hesitantly examined the contents of the paper bag nearest to him. 

Chris let out a slow breath. The inquisitive, teasing Zee was back, all wide dark eyes that moved swiftly across each of the paper bags and their contents. 

“You are hungry though right? You wanna try this?” Chris extended a small carton towards Zee. “This is Georgio’s special. Chicken noodle soup. It’s the best you’ll ever taste, I promise you.”

Zee accepted the carton, sniffed at the steaming liquid inside and took a sip. Chris was right. The soup was moreish, but any soup would have been. He didn’t have the heart to tell Chris he had never tasted organic food, but suspected Chris wasn’t that naïve. 

“It’s good,” said Zee, and warmth from the smile that spread across Chris’ face mingled with the warmth from the soup in his chest. “What else do you recommend?”

Chris exuberantly stuffed a strange pale cracker into his mouth and chewed with gusto as he lifted lids off other cartons. “I’d say everything. Go for it. Dig in,” he said, and wielded a pair of chopsticks between his fingers. The expression on Zee’s face sent Chris rummaging in kitchen drawers for forks and spoons. 

The food tasting session decamped from the kitchen to the comfort of the lounge and rainy late afternoon swiftly passed into early evening. Zee sat crossed legged on the floor, Chris in his favourite recliner. The low coffee table in between them afforded the occasional inadvertent touch against leg, or a brush of fingers as food was passed across. The food fest came to a natural close with Zee chasing noodles around a carton with a pair of chopsticks as Chris heckled instructions from the recliner. 

“Christopher. I am going to stick this up your ass if you don’t shut up,” said Zee, and waved a chopstick across the table towards Chris’ nose. 

“But you’re holding them wrong,” said Chris, grinning and waving his own chopsticks defiantly. “Y’gotta push your fingers up as far as you can with your thumb over here out of the way and then relax your hand and just move your index finger, like this.” Chris wiggled chopsticks confidently.

Zee dissolved into sniggering and the piece of noodle he had finally managed to get onto the tip of his chopsticks hovered away from his mouth. 

“What?” grinned Chris.

Zee hung his head as a sniggering fit took hold and abandoned his chopsticks in the carton. 

Chris laughed. “What? What is it?”

Shoving the carton onto the cluttered table and shaking his head, Zee leaned back against the sofa recliner and massaged his stomach. “Nothing, nothing. I’ve eaten too much,” he said. “I think I’m a little high on the food.”

Chris smiled, tossed his own chopsticks into a carton on the table and lay back in the recliner. “It is good food,” he said. “I dream about those noodles.” 

Chris’ comment set off another snigger from Zee who pinched his eyes closed with his fingers. 

“Zee?” 

“I’m fine, ignore me,” said Zee. He sighed extravagantly delving his hand into the top of the sheet bunched around his waist and groaned. “It’s just the food.” 

Chris dragged his eyes to the entertainment running quietly on the wall in the background. “Is there anything you particularly wanna watch? Film maybe or something else?” asked Chris.

Zee recognised signs of a typical Chris deflection and slithered up from the floor onto the sofa recliner. “A film sounds like an excellent idea Christopher. I shall leave it to your discretion,” he said. 

Chris grinned. “Okay, but don’t complain if you don’t like it,” he said. 

Genuinely relaxed with his belly fuller than he could ever remember it being, Zee decided he was happy to indulge Chris’ need to ‘hang out’. He glanced at the On Circuit timer relegated to a small box in bottom corner of the E-Wall. Nearly four hours had passed with another six hours left to run on the Reserve. Accustomed to long sessions in the company of other Users, the duration of the Reserve didn’t necessarily surprise Zee but its nature did. He was actually enjoying Chris’ company, and that alone raised concerns and an in built sense of self preservation chastised him. Chris was a User, and that was all. 

Zee stretched out along the recliner and adjusted the padded cushion behind his head. Chris’ film selection appeared to be a Retro involving cute guys persistently wearing sunglasses and flying fighter jets whilst accompanied by appalling rock music. Zee stifled a yawn and slung an arm behind his head. As the film progressed through its trite demonstrations of machismo and suspiciously homoerotic scenes involving a beach volley ball match, Zee occasionally glanced up to reflections on the lounge ceiling. 

Chris appeared happy and remarkably unselfconscious sat in his recliner. In the briefest of moments, Zee failed to recognise himself laying on the sofa recliner. Instinctive self chastisement reminded him again that Chris was just a User, and the present simplistic contentment was not real. Reality lay outside the temporary comforts Chris’ apartment afforded, and when the On Circuit timed out, he would return to reality’s harsh, cold and sometimes painful truth. Zee returned his attention to the film.

As the film finished and advertisements filled the wall, Chris stretched in his recliner and yawned expansively. “You wanna watch another one?” he asked and looked over to Zee laid out the full length of the sofa recliner. “Zee?”

Chris pulled himself up in the recliner when he received no response and craned his neck. Zee had one arm slung behind his head partially obscuring his face that was turned away from Chris. 

Chris looked up at the reflection on the ceiling. Zee’s eyes were closed and his other hand rested low on his abdomen, fingers delving inside the edge of the black sheet. His chest steadily rose and fell with slow measured breaths. A distinct thrill ran through Chris instantly freezing him and making him super aware of every sound he made including his own breathing. The opportunity to look at Zee uninhibited presented itself and Chris looked away with a flush of self consciousness. Zee’s reflection lay enticingly in the corner of his eye and he cautiously risked another glance. Zee’s prone form unselfconsciously reassured Chris it was alright to look, and Chris conceded, roaming over subtle rib bones visible beneath ivory skin and examining distinct patterning of dark hair across Zee’s chest and lower arms. The tip of the curl of Zee’s neck tattoo poked out from behind his ear and Chris followed it up to the whorl of Zee’s ear disappearing under his hair. 

Chris looked away from the ceiling. Conscious again of the sense of having an untamed, albeit sleeping, animal in his immediate vicinity, he edged his way within reaching distance of his crutches and eased himself to a stand. Inching his way to his bedroom he retrieved the blanket from his bed and returned to the lounge at an equally slow pace. 

Chris set aside his crutches and took carefully weighted steps to stand near Zee. The intention to lay the blanket over Zee stalled. The gentle rise and fall of Zee’s abdomen drew Chris’ eyes downwards to the trail of dark hair low on Zee’s stomach disappearing under the edge of the black sheet. The rumpled outline below blended into the smooth shape of Zee’s thigh and emerged as a tip of a protruding hip bone at the edge of the rucked bed sheet. 

Inexplicably compelled to cross a boundary, Chris reached out his hand and experimentally placed a feather light touch with fingers against the outline of Zee’s thigh. Warmth fed into Chris’ fingertips setting nerve endings tingling across his body and the knowledge his trespass had gone unnoticed emboldened him. He moved his hand and carefully put it over the inviting rumple of bed sheet below Zee’s fingers. Chris held his breath allowing firm warm contours to settle into his palm for several pounding heartbeats. Removing his hand as slowly as he had placed it, he retreated to his recliner with the sound of his heart hammering in his ears. He wrapped himself in the blanket and placed a still warm tingling palm over his erection whilst fixing his attention on the monochrome Oldie film that had started running. 

Guilt and excitement mixed in equal measure in his bloodstream until it evolved into a sense of empowerment only to dissolve into self recrimination. He settled it with a double dose of Calmers and half a Relaxer, and contented himself with a small sense of residual exhilaration as he occasionally watched Zee’s sleeping reflection on the lounge ceiling. 

The Oldie film ran its course and a Vintage Horror began when Zee finally turned on the sofa recliner and opened his eyes. Chris was watching and quickly focused on the film. 

Zee rubbed an eye with the back of his hand and surrendered to a reflexive need to stretch. He caught Chris’ surreptitious glances as his actions made the sheet slither on the leather recliner exposing part of a leg. Enjoying the relaxed heavy sensation from sleep which remained, he turned on his side resting his head on his arm. Chris appeared to be staring at the entertainment with renewed concentration and Zee allowed the silent minutes to pass. The film however did not hold Chris’ attention for long and Zee saw the furtive glances at reflections on the lounge ceiling. 

Chris shifted in the recliner acutely aware of his guest’s dark eyed scrutiny. Zee’s half lidded eyes blinked slowly and an additional minor adjustment to his position as he made himself comfortable on the recliner moved the sheet lower over his hip as he stretched his legs. Zee’s hand drifted to his hip as he rested his arm alongside his body and Chris fixed on the sheet as Zee eased it lower over his hip with the tips of his fingers. The margin of dark hair on Zee’s lower abdomen began to widen and Chris stared, transfixed as gravity took hold of the sheet and it slithered exposing the curve of Zee’s buttock. 

Chris lurched out of the recliner haphazardly gathering empty cartons up off the lounge table into his arms sending chopsticks clattering to the floor. “I’d better clear some of his mess up,” he said, and studiously ignored Zee in the corner of his eye. Wincing painfully without the aid of his crutches, he made a hasty retreat from the lounge, staggering into the kitchen and tipped the contents in his arms over the centre counter. 

Chris stood on one foot leaning against the counter and screwed his eyes shut as his feet gave a painful throb. When he opened his eyes his breath snapped his mouth shut. Zee’s reflection in tiled surfaces opposite stood in the kitchen doorway fully naked. Chris looked away quickly fumbling empty cartons on the counter into abandoned bags. His hands faltered at the distinct sense of presence close behind him. 

Chris placed a lid back onto an empty carton and risked raising his eyes to the reflection in cupboards opposite. Zee stood directly behind, his body and half of his face obscured. Chris crumpled the edge of a bag and abruptly halted his intention to move as Zee’s hand appeared and rested lightly on the counter. He suppressed a shiver as Zee’s breath touched the back of his neck.

“Do you want to touch me Christopher?” whispered Zee.

Chris dumbly shook his head and crushed crumbs on the kitchen counter between his fingers. Zee’s other hand settled on the kitchen counter the other side. 

“I know you touched me,” breathed Zee.

Chris wished the floor would open underneath him and swallow him whole. Shame of discovery burned his cheeks and he stared at the counter. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-- It was really wrong of me. I really shouldn’t have done that. It was, it was, really bad. I’m so sorry. I promise - I swear - I won’t ever do it again,” he said, and pressed closer to the counter in surprise at Zee’s increasing proximity. Silence forced him to risk a glance at Zee’s reflection. Half of its face loomed at the side of Chris’ and appeared to be studying Chris’ neck. Knowing it was being watched Zee’s reflection turned it face to look at Chris and then closed its eye. 

Chris heard his breath coming in short rasps in growing silence and catch suddenly as Zee’s body pressed gently against his own. Crushing painfully against the counter to limit contact, Chris looked around for a means of escape. His efforts only earned a clearer view of Zee’s naked body reflected in every surface around the kitchen moulding itself into his and corresponding arousal flooded through him. The reflection of Zee’s face appeared in full at the side of him and with eyes still closed, pressed its nose under the tip of his ear. Inadvertently, Chris’ elbow made sharp contact with Zee’s ribcage. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m sorry.” Chris stared at the counter trying in vain to control his harsh breaths as Zee’s arm crept inside his own. Chris felt Zee’s breath low on his neck.

“You apologise too much Christopher,” whispered Zee.

Chris gripped the edge of the kitchen counter in an effort to steady himself. Staring at his reflection opposite he allowed its hand to creep and hesitantly drift fingers across the back of Zee’s resting upon the counter. Zee’s hand turned and offered a touch upon Chris’ palm by return. Encouraged, Chris’ reflection continued its tentative exploration of Zee’s lower arm tracing veins around the wrist until its hand was taken and guided out of sight. 

Chris stilled at the sensation of warm flesh and glanced across the kitchen at his reflection in another surface and to its hand resting upon Zee’s thigh. Mesmerised, Chris watched his reflection run its thumb over the curls of Zee’s tattoo and surrendering to Zee’s continued light touches upon his arms, followed the tattoo higher until it curled over the side of Zee’s buttock. Chris turned, hands continuing to explore as Zee maintained close contact until their positions were exchanged and Chris stared across Zee’s shoulder at their reflections on the other side of the kitchen. Zee’s eyes remained closed and Chris experienced a distinctive thrill. 

Chris’ fingers took on a life of their own, compelled to trace every detail across warm pale flesh, and he lost himself in the occasional responding movement of muscle under skin. Slowly he learned Zee body, the fact he liked to be touched on his shoulders and particularly on the base of his spine where the feathered tattoo guided Chris’ fingers in repeating circular patterns which elicited soft noises from Zee. Chris was vaguely aware of warmth growing in his hands and Zee’s continued sinuous encouragement under them. Small agreeable noises at his ministrations flooded his groin with corresponding heat. 

Chris ran his hand down the back of Zee’s leg to the hollow behind the knee earning him a distinctly needy groan. Chris indulged and slowly repeated the gesture, his thumbs running the length of the inside of Zee’s thighs until they lingered near the crease of Zee’s buttocks. With a shaky exhalation, Chris allowed his fingers to tentatively explore the crease between Zee’s legs, travelling until they touched puckered flesh and became gradually coated with something slick. Zee’s head sunk onto the kitchen counter and he stretched out his arms sending cartons dropping to the floor as Chris flattened his other hand against the base of Zee’s spine. 

Shaking with exhilaration, Chris curled his body over Zee and rested his face against Zee’s spine listening to the sound of Zee’s heart beating steadily. The reflection in a surface opposite caused Chris’ fingers to still their exploration and he turned his face into Zee’s back in sudden self consciousness. 

_You can have anything you want._

Chris levered himself up off Zee and abruptly lurched out of the kitchen. 

At the sound of a door slamming Zee raised his head off the kitchen counter. Pulling himself up he glanced around the kitchen and with the erotic high Chris had managed to achieve still humming in his body he walked out into the lounge. 

A Western filled the E-Wall, a gunfight in full flow and Zee paced across the lounge. The door to Chris’ bedroom was shut. 

“Christopher?” 

Zee reached for the blanket on Chris’ recliner and wrapped it around himself. 

The bedroom door opened quickly and arm deposited Zee’s clothes and trainers on the floor and then the door closed again. 

Zee stared at the bedroom door and approached carefully. Pressing his ear to the door he listened for any movement or sign of life the other side. 

“Christopher.” Zee leaned close and spoke to the door frame. “Christopher. What’s wrong?” Receiving only silence Zee debated opening the door and hesitantly touched the black ball door handle. He placed his face against the door and listened. 

“Christopher. I need to know if you are alright. You don’t have to talk to me I just need to know if you’re alright and then I will leave you alone,” said Zee.

Several painful minutes passed with no response and Zee’s grip tightened on the door handle. 

“Christopher. If you don’t speak to me and tell me you’re okay I’m going to open the door and come in there. I know you don’t want me to but I will have to. I need to know you’re okay.”

Zee took a deep breath and scowled at the door. “Christopher.”

“I’m fine.” Chris’ voice sounded muffled. “I’m fine, I’m sorry. Please just—I need to have some time alone.”

Zee rested his head against the door in relief. “Alright. Thank you for letting me know you’re okay, Christopher.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

A smile threatened to creep into Zee’s mouth. “Christopher. Stop apologising. Everything’s fine. I’m going to get dressed now.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me, or anything. You promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid okay.”

There were shuffling noises behind the door as if a body leaned against the frame and Zee looked down at shadows moving under the gap in door. When Chris spoke his voice seemed to come from low down near the bottom of the door. 

“I promise, I won’t, um, do anything. I just need some space.”

Zee knelt down speaking into the hairline gap in the door. “That’s fine with me. I probably have to go soon anyway, so I guess I’ll say goodbye now. I really enjoyed, hanging out, with you.” Zee chewed his lip. “Thank you Christopher.”

Silence the other side of the door accompanied a movement of shadow and Zee waited with his ear pressed against the door. No answer came. 

Zee grabbed his damp clothes and padded silently away from the door. Pulling on stiff jeans he dressed quietly and folded the blanket and sheet, leaving them on Chris’ recliner. He cleared remaining cartons off the lounge coffee table, carrying them to the kitchen and retrieved scattered cartons off the kitchen floor leaving everything on the counter. Stealing a final cracker from food fest debris, he returned to the lounge and sat watching the door to Chris’ bedroom as the On Circuit timer counted out and flashed its final one minute alert. He told himself throughout that Chris was just a User and with a final silent goodbye to Chris’ apartment, stepped into the Locator and disappeared. 

Chris opened the bedroom door when he was sure he was alone. The film on the E-Wall was coming to an end and two men on horseback rode across Monument Valley into the setting sun. The lounge was empty and the folded blanket and sheet on his recliner drew his eye. 

Chris rested his forehead against the edge of the door. Self loathing ate its way through his chest and guilty tears threatened to spill over. A restless night threatened and wincing as he crossed the lounge on bandaged feet, he grabbed his Tab box and dropped one Sleep after another until his head began to throb. The distinctive musk that was uniquely Zee but with a hint of fresh shower scent lingered on his clothes and he sniffed at his hands until his senses were saturated and he could no longer detected the fragrance. 

Chris went to bed, stripping naked and wrapping the neatly folded bed sheet around him curled into the blanket. Sleep did not come, and he tossed and turned plagued by guilt over his behaviour with Zee which transformed into a constant stream of private conversation that raked old arguments out of his sub conscious and confrontational scenarios he had thought long forgotten surfaced.

Sleep deprived, cold and frustrated, Chris stood in the kitchen nibbling at the doggy remains of his meal with Zee. He threw an empty carton onto the counter as indecision rose again. Part of him pleaded to place another Reserve on Zee and was instantly pulled back by another part of him which dampened enthusiasm with tired arguments leaving Chris stranded in limbo and his mind racing in circles. He returned to fractiously pacing around his apartment and watched the gradual lightening of the garden terraces under a dreary morning sky. 

Chris threw himself into his recliner and accessed On Circuit. Zee’s calendar stared back at him from the E-Wall as another internal debate raged inside Chris. 

_You can have anything you want._

Chris entertained the idea of placing a Reserve and a new wave of self recrimination rose inside him. The idea of not placing a Reserve left him feeling the same way. He chewed at a nail catching a familiar scent of Zee on his palm. 

Chris’ reflection in the lounge ceiling caught his eye. “Place the fucking Reserve and if you change your mind you can always delete it.” 

“But, oh god.” Chris rubbed his temples with the heels of his hands. “It’s not real. And it’s not, fair. It’s too much.”

“I really like him,” said Chris’ reflection.

Chris cringed and screwed his eyes shut. “Oh god, I hate myself. God, what the fuck am I doing? Just place the goddamn Reserve.” He balled his fists and bottled up frustration poured out. “I can’t have what I want,” he yelled. 

“Fuck this shit,” said Chris’ reflection. 

Chris sat up in the recliner. Gritting his teeth he filled the next available Reserve on Zee’s calendar. It would be four days of waiting and time enough to think. Still the pressure of his decision pushed uncomfortably around him and Chris poured Sleep Tabs into his palm. He retreated to his bedroom and wound himself into the smell of Zee in the sheets. Exhaustion eventually brought sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The automated air taxi banked slipping into a feeder lane designated for the city’s mid quarter. Stocky glass buildings covered with neon billboards flashed by as flaring red lights from other vehicles bounced off the taxi’s interior, and floating advertisement pods twirled their projectors lighting up the dark. 

Chris looked out of the taxi’s window at the barrage of entertainment and Tab adverts, and at the Prios Corps logo occasionally floating over top. As the taxi smoothly accelerated spiralling downwards, the exterior of closely packed buildings either side filled with thousands of faces from On Circuit adverts. Miles below, the smog barrier marking the lower quarter of the city came briefly into view as lights from an advertisement pod ghosted across its surface. Chris pressed his face against the taxi’s window glimpsing the boundary of a world out of sight of day and night, and wondered again about the Trash living below. 

The air taxi landed gracefully on a boulevard strip near an arcade and Chris removed his flex card from the taxi’ meter and stepped out. His casual paper clothes were buffeted by warm air smelling of ionisation as the air taxi took off, and he wandered through an entrance portico with only a hint of discomfort from his feet. Sliding glass doors quickly shut out chill night air behind him as he emerged onto the arcade’s terrazzo walkway and joined the throng of loudly chattering people moving at a sedate pace. 

Drifting along a familiar route, Chris heard the thumping music from The Barney Club before it came into view. Despite the packed arcade there was no queue outside the club and Chris brandished his flex card at the door barrier and was immediately admitted as his membership was confirmed. The odour of close packed bodies hung in the air although the club was virtually empty and a few die hard regulars who ringed the bar looked hopefully toward the doorway as Chris entered. 

Chris crossed the empty dance floor to the bar and declining the special offer of a Pink Tab, ordered a drink. He dropped several Private Tabs shutting out thumping music and fixed his attention on the surface of the bar. Killing time was his only intention, the confines of his apartment having finally taken him to the limits of his patience and he hoped a change of scenery would provide the distraction he needed. Preoccupied by constant nagging indecision over the Reserve he had placed on Zee, Chris scratched through the thickening growth on his face and stared into his drink when it arrived. It held no answers to his personal dilemma and could not provide absolution for the ever present guilt over his behaviour three nights previously. He downed the drink and ordered another resigning himself to the fact that he still didn’t know what he really wanted. 

Chris was on his fourth shot of Synth when a small but noisy crowd poured into the Club. He did not expect to see anyone he knew so the hard slap on his back took him by surprise and sent his drink spilling across the bar. 

“Well I see a dead man walking. Chris. Long time no see.”

A burly arm slung itself around Chris pulling him off balance and he winced at the pinch in the sole of his foot as he staggered to gain his footing. 

“Urban you dog,” said Chris. His heart sank but he slapped a friendly arm around the burly guy who was trying to strangle him in a head lock. 

“Karl. Karl. Jesus, how many times can you forget my name?” Karl tightened his grip temporarily and then released Chris. 

A laugh forced its way out of Chris mouth and he leant against the bar gulping air. “Sorry.”

_You apologise too much._

Slamming a hand on the bar Karl hailed a bar tender and ordered his usual and a round of drinks for the straggling group of people with him. A woman with lime green lipstick smothered in matching luminous body paint that smelled of coconut trailed her fingers over Karl’s shoulder and smiled at Chris. 

“I haven’t seen you in ages. I thought you’d dropped Green and forgotten about your life,” said Karl and levelled a punch at Chris’ stomach. 

Chris grunted and drew a hand protectively across his abdomen. “What? Oh I er--”

Karl snatched his order from the bar tender. “So where’ve you been? Spill it,” he said. 

“I’m fine, I had a few days out, I er.. needed to recover. I er.. hurt my feet,” said Chris. A faded image of a woman with yellow hair flashed briefly through his head. “Actually I really need—“ 

“What’s with the beard? I barely recognised you when I came in,” interrupted Karl pushing the lime green woman off his shoulder. “You look like you’re in disguise.”

Chris winced as Karl’s fingers pinched at the growth on his face and tugged hard. “Yeah well, y’know I didn’t shave for a few days and then it kinda seemed like a good idea to not shave and then—“

“Yeah, well I barely fucking recognised you.” Karl licked up a Smacker and swilled his mouth with soda. “Trying to hide are you?” 

_You’re not hiding something are you?_

“No, no I wasn’t, I just er.. didn’t expect to see you here. I mean, it’s not a theme night and I was just having a drink and—“

“This place if fucking dead tonight,” said Karl and downed his drink. He leant against the bar and watched the small group who had arrived with him listlessly gyrate on the dance floor. “I want some action to get me in the mood but this place is a blow out. Fucking shit.” He turned back toward the bar and ordered another drink.

A tattoo on the back of the neck of one of the women in Karl’s group caught Chris’ eye. Curious but cautious Chris ventured a tentative query. “Are you er, entertaining? I heard there’s a good strip club down on 9th arcade. It should be busy if nothing else is,” he said.

Karl shook his head. “Nah, I’m not out for the night, technically. I’m on chaperone duty,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder to the group dancing and laughed at the confusion on Chris’ face. 

“I didn’t think anyone would trust you with their daughter,” said Chris. He received a heavy handed slap on his chest and Karl leaned in close to his ear.

“You’re right, I’m totally untrustworthy, but don’t tell ‘em that,” whispered Karl and sniggered. “I’ve got a gig on the side for extra credits. It’s a good screw and I don’t want anyone muscling in so don’t mention to anyone I told you.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” said Chris and pressed a finger to his lips. “Unlike you I’m totally trustworthy. Look I need to talk to you—“ His comment earned him a punch in the shoulder. 

“It’s great. I get to go out a lot to parties, get plenty of fun too. I round ‘em up and keep ‘em happy,” said Karl, and reached for his drink. 

Chris offered an approving nod and passively settled his attention on his drink. 

“So what have you been doing then?” asked Karl offering his Tab box. “Have you been hanging out at that Dojo place up in High Towers again?”

Chris shook his head and declined Karl’s offer. “No I er… I hurt my feet. I er… there was an accident and I –“

Karl’s sharp slap across Chris’ back cut him off. “You’re the man. Partying hard again eh?”

_He’s the Rad Man._

“No there’s was an accident,” said Chris. “A really serious accident and er.. I need to ask—“

Karl howled wolf loud as one of the women on the dance floor lifted up the paper frills of her skirt exposing her naked ass. Several of the regulars around the bar slid onto the dance floor and hysterical laughter mingled with the thumping music. 

“Dirty bitch,” laughed Karl and turned back to Chris. “So come on tell me, what have you been getting up to, where have you been?”

Chris gritted his teeth in exasperation. “I’ve been in my apartment,” he said. 

Karl pulled a face. “What? Just hanging out in your—oh I get it.” He laughed hard and grappled Chris in a head lock. “Private party. You’re the man.” 

Chris struggled under Karl’s grip and pulled away. “NO. No I haven’t. I haven’t done any partying. No private parties,” he said.

Karl made a show of levelling a punch to Chris’ chin and halted. “Really? No parties?”

“No, no parties. I said I hurt my feet. I couldn’t go anywhere,” said Chris and dropped a Calmer. 

Karl grabbed his drink and shrugged something off. “Oh. Bummer.”

Chris sighed exhausted by the conversation. “I know, bummer. And that’s why I need to—“

“Not even a little party?” asked Karl. “You could’ve had a little party. There’s plenty of ways to enjoy yourself sitting on your ass mate.” 

“No, no parties. I just sat and watched the E-Wall and—“

“No wonder you’re in this fucking dump on a night like this,” said Karl. “You should’ve got yourself one of those On Circuit units. There’s plenty of fun to be found there mate. You should get one.”

“I’ve got one,” snapped Chris. 

“Whaayyyy! Well why didn’t you use it then?”

Chris mouthed air and rubbed the back of his neck. “I er.. well I did---“

“You dirty bastard, you did have a party,” Karl grappled Chris again. “I knew you’d be partying. That’s why you’ve been hiding yourself away.”

Heat crawled up Chris’ spine. “I didn’t party I was—“

“Nah come on you did didn’t you. You got someone in didn’t you,” said Karl and thrust his hips lasciviously.

Chris felt forced to nod under Karl’s expectant grin. “Yeah, yeah I did, I—“

Karl laughed and locked Chris crushing bear hug pulling him close. “That’s my man. So what she like then, pretty? Dirty? I bet she’s really dirty. She must’ve been to keep you out of sight for a week. Come on say.”

“No, no, I er.. that’s not my type, I er..”

Karl tightened his grip. “What did she look like, what did she do? What Circuit is she from?”

“I didn’t do a Circuit I er.. it was an accident,” croaked Chris trying to breathe and slapped a hand on Karl’s arm.

“Another accident,” said Karl meaningfully “Yeah I know those types of accidents.” He laughed coarsely.

Chris gasped for air. “No I didn’t mean to I er.. I brought up a Random circuit by mistake and—“

Karl drummed a fist heavily against the bar and pulled Chris around to face the dance floor. “They’re the best. Look at this lot. They’re all Random. Serious party girls. I bet she was a right little goer, eh, eh, do everything you wanted,” he said.

_You can have anything you want._

Chris tried in vain to extract himself from Karl’s grip and earned an elbow in the ribs. “Yeah something like that,” he said.

“So what did she do. Come on, spill it. You gave her a right seeing to didn’t ya and left her begging for more,” said Karl and relinquished his grip.

“No I er.. we er… just hung out and er… had dinner,” said Chris.

Karl laughed raucously. “Had dinner, that’s one way of putting it mate. I get your meaning. I bet she tasted sweet. A nice spread, right across the table I bet. Finger buffet.”

_I know you touched me._

Chris forced an uncomfortable smile. Karl continued to laugh wiggling his fingers under Chris’ nose and stopped short, waving an accusatory finger. 

“O-oh. What’s that? Oh no man. You like her don’t you. You really like her. That’s why I haven’t seen you around. You’ve been too busy getting your hands dirty,” said Karl and slapped a hand on the bar. “Fuck me.”

Chris’ stammered objections encouraged Karl all the more. 

“It’s true. You’ve got all fancy about her.” Karl threw his head back and laughed. “What is she? She’s Random right, so what is she? Top Circuit, no? A Cruiser, no? Trash? She’s Trash?”

Chris nodded helplessly.

Karl burst into renewed coarse laughter. “You’d better stop thinking like that, if she’s a piece of Trash mate. Look at ‘em.” He pointed to the dance floor where one of the regulars had their hands up the paper skirt belonging to the woman with lime green body paint. 

Chris leaned sharply against the bar as Karl slung an arm around his neck and pulled him close. 

“Fucking Trash mate. They’re only good for the disposer once the night is over. Don’t think that Random you’re so sweet on isn’t somewhere right now with someone else hand up her skirt,” said Karl.

Chris forced a laugh. “Yeah I know that. I’m not stupid.” Karl’s breath touched his ear.

“Well fucking hell mate stop looking like you’ve lost your wife for fuck’s sake. It’s just Trash. It’s there for a good time. Don’t think she’s not enjoying every minute of it wherever the hell she is.”

Chris staggered as Karl pushed him away clapping his hands loudly to gain the attention of the group on the dance floor.

“Come on lovelies, time’s getting on. We’ve got to get you ready,” shouted Karl. 

The group on the dance floor whined and drifted toward the bar. 

Chris turned his back and stared into his drink. 

“Oh come on,” said Karl and slung an arm around Chris’ shoulder. “Don’t look so down with your love life. You need to get back on the wagon mate, get yourself back in the party mood,” he said.

Chris offered a lethargic laugh and tried to wave Karl off. “I’m fine, I just er,.. I only came out for a quiet drink.”

“Bollocks. Staying in this dump all night’ll make you wanna kill yourself, or worse,” said Karl. “Why don’t you come with me? I’m taking this lot off to a private party and we can hang out there. Free Synth and all the Tabs you want.”

“No, no I don’t wanna do—“

“Shut the fuck up man. Where’s the party man I know?” Karl shook Chris’ shoulders. “What else are you gonna do, go back to your apartment and stare at your E-Wall? You can look after the ladies with me, they’re right handful. If anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re someone checking out the chauffeuring thing for the night. Come on, it’ll be fun, do you good.”

Chris winced as Karl’s grip tightened on his shoulders and he reluctantly capitulated. “Okay, okay I’ll, I dunno, I’ll come along but just for a little while, no heavy partying okay,” he said.

The edge of the bar dug sharply into Chris’ stomach as Karl shoved him and howled wolf loud. 

“That’s my man,” shouted Karl and landed a heavy slap on Chris’ shoulders dragging him around to face the group standing idly around the bar. “Hey everyone this is Chris, he’s coming with us for the night. Be careful of him, he’s a real ladies man.”

_He’s the Rad Man._

Squeals of delight went up from the group and Chris was smothered in coconut perfume as several women came and draped themselves over him and Karl. Chris laughed weakly and fended off intimate touches. 

“Careful, he’ll fall in love with you if you keep doing that,” said Karl and pulled one of the women into his arms. “He falls in love real easy.”

Chris forced a smile and winced as one of the women trod on his foot. 

“Alright let’s go,” announced Karl loudly. “It’s time to get some fucking action.”

The group tumbled out of The Barney Club into the bustling arcade and Karl set a steady pace pushing through the crowds with a girl on each arm. Chris straggled behind doing his best to avoid the clutches of several in the group and planning his escape as soon as an opportunity presented itself. 

Under the heavy bombardment of advertising jingles and crowd chatter, the group veered off the arcade through a portico and sharp cold air bit through Chris’ clothing as everyone stepped out onto a boulevard strip. Air cars landed and took off in quick succession leaving turbulent warm air saturated with ionisation and Karl handed over a parking voucher to an automated attendant. 

Chris leaned against a barrier and looked out over the edge as the group waited for their air car. Far below the smog cloud hung between buildings. 

“What y’lookin’ at baby?”

Chris glanced up. The woman smothered in lime green body paint hung on the barrier next to him and leaned far out over the edge. 

“I’m er.. just looking, at the smog,” said Chris and stifled nervous anxiety as the woman put her feet on the barrier and lifted herself up extending her view over the edge. 

“It looks pretty don’t it, all fluffy like a cloud,” she said, chewing gum with an open mouthed smile. “Like y’could jump right off of here and it would be all bouncy like a bed when y’landed on it.” 

Chris watched the woman’s thin hair floating in the updraft. “Yeah, yeah, I guess it does,” he said softly. 

“I love flyin’, it’s m’favourite thing. I love air cars, all flyin’ around in the air, like a bird,” said the woman, and promptly spat over the side of the barrier. “Do y’like flyin’ baby?”

Chris’ hands tightened on the edge of the barrier. “Yeah, yeah flying is good,” he said.

“I love flyin’. I wish I was born a bird. They’re so pretty. I’d fly away n’go n’build m’nest in a real tree somewhere n’get m’self a handsome bird guy.” The woman laughed and let go of the edge of the barrier, spreading out her arms as another updraft caught her hair sending blonde fronds across her face. 

“I think you should get down, it’s dangerous,” breathed Chris. The woman appeared not to hear. 

“Hey you two, stop fucking around over there,” Karl shouted. “Come and get in the car.”

Chris startled as the woman jumped off the barrier with a laugh and ran across the boulevard strip. Karl stood waiting next to a large limousine already packed with members of the group and waved Chris over. 

“Come on man, hustle,” shouted Karl and shut the door on the gaggling group in the back of the limousine. 

Chris staggered across the strip on wobbly legs and crawled into the front seat next to Karl. 

“What the fuck were you doing?” asked Karl over loud chatter as Chris shut the door. 

“Just looking at the smog,” said Chris and suppressed a shiver.

Karl grunted and hit the auto control on the limousine’s dashboard. The air car lifted smoothly off the strip and began its spiralling accent through the closely packed buildings. Chris pressed his face to the window and watched the smog barrier drift away until it was out of sight. As the limousine accelerated out of a drifter lane Karl raised the privacy screen cutting off the noisy chatter in the back seats and Chris breathed a sigh of relief for the relative silence. 

“Fucking noises bitches. A man can’t think with that noise all the goddamn time,” said Karl and wrapped his hand around the limousine’s steering wheel as he shut off the auto control. 

“Yeah I know what you mean,” sighed Chris and reached for his Tab box.

“So that piece of Random fluff you’re fucking talks a lot I take it,” said Karl and nudged a fist into Chris’ shoulder. 

Chris dropped an additional Calmer and offered his Tab box to Karl. “No, no, not much, just er.. we talk but, not much,” he said, and looked out of the limousine’s window.

Karl helped himself to several Fizz Tabs and laughed coarsely. “Yeah I bet. Why talk when you can fuck? You’ll have to bring her to the club one night, we’ll have some fun.” 

Chris nodded dumbly, pocketing his Tab box and stared at billboards splattered in Tab adverts. A woman’s happy smiling face appeared backed by Prios Corps logos and banners carrying the slogan ‘Green is the new Clean’ floated over the top. On Circuit adverts followed and turned the buildings into thousands of faces. 

Chris gripped the edge of the seat as Karl banked the limousine sharply into a feeder lane and accelerated. 

“Where are we going?” asked Chris. 

“To a party,” said Karl. “Don’t worry you’ll enjoy it. There’s gonna be lots of fun.”

Chris watched buildings flash past and wondered again when he would be able to escape Karl’s company. “I don’t recognise this area. Are we still in mid quarter?” he asked.

“Yeah we’re just on the north side. Scenic route, mate. We’ll be in your stomping ground in High Towers soon. Don’t worry I’m not getting you into any trouble. You’ll be able to find your way home I promise.” Karl laughed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“We’re going to High Towers?” Chris asked. Genuine surprise simmered down into caution and he hoped he could avoid Karl asking to see his apartment.

Karl snorted and shook his head. “You need to drop Red mate, you’re a lot more fun when you’re on that stuff,” he said.

Chris settled back in the chair and glanced out of the window trying to keep his bearings. The thin slivers of High Towers came into view overhead as the limousine banked sharply and began a rapid accent as Karl accelerated wildly. Chris dropped his attention to his hands in his lap as a wave of car nausea gripped him. 

“Urban, you drive like a maniac,” said Chris. 

“That’s because I am,” said Karl and whooped and howled. 

Chris conceded a laugh. “Just get me there in one piece please. I don’t want another accident and end up in the OP for a second time in a week,” he said.

Karl laughed and slapped Chris on the shoulder. “Trust me mate.”

Chris grinned and took a slow breath as the limousine cruised up the side of High Towers. Apartments came into view, private opulence intermittently visible as lights shone against the night spilling over onto garden terraces. Chris found himself fascinated at the snapshots of anonymous people until he sensed he was being watched and caught the reflection of Karl’s grinning face in the limousine’s window. 

“Y’dirty peeping Tom,” sniggered Karl. 

Chris self consciously pulled away from the window. “It’s interesting,” he said. 

Karl shook his head and laughed. 

“What happened to your hand,” asked Chris. “Am I not the only one who’s been having accidents?”

Karl flexed his fingers and turned knuckles shaded with bruising and patterned with scabs toward Chris. “Part of the job, mate. It can get a bit hands on some times, not that I’m complaining,” said Karl and grinned. “Look we’re here.” 

The limousine banked toward an apartment and Chris looked out of window at the dark windows and empty garden terraces. 

“Doesn’t look as if anyone lives here,” said Chris sitting forward slightly. 

“They don’t, mate,” said Karl. “It’s just used as meeting hub.”

Chris frowned and as Karl hit the auto control, the limousine hovering gently down onto the apartment’s landing pad. Karl opened the door and stepped out and Chris felt the chill of night air. Gaggling laughter soon followed as the group tumbled out of the limousine and Karl leant his head through the door at Chris. “Come on then, if you’re coming,” he said and slammed the door shut. 

Inside the apartment Chris stepped out of the Locator and down into a lounge similar in size to that of his own yet furnished with bright red sofa recliners and mock animal skin rugs. Karl helped himself to a beer from bottles on one of the many lounge tables and turned on the E-Wall. An On Circuit calendar with a header name of Black-52 filled the wall. 

“Right shut the fuck up,” shouted Karl and chattering from the sofas reduced in volume. “Alright lovelies get yourselves tarted up, you’ve got ten minutes.”

Several in the group dashed off across the lounge squealing into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Karl grinned at Chris hovering in the middle of the lounge. “Typical. You’d think they’d take a piss sooner,” he said.

Chris shrugged and reached for his Tab box. “Yeah well, if you gotta go you gotta go. Excitement I suppose,” he said, though he doubted it.

Karl took a long slug of beer and checked the timer on the wall. “Yeah well they’re cutting it fine, as usual,” he said.

“Is it always like this?” Chris asked carefully, glancing at the few remaining members of the group sat chatting quietly on the sofas. 

Karl nodded, drifted over to Chris and lowered his voice as he spoke. “Pretty much. Pain in the ass but it’s worth it. Tonight is quiet but other nights are really busy and this place is normally packed. It’s lucky there’s time for them to take a piss at all, the queue is usually fifteen deep,” he said.

“Is it okay to ask er..who’s er… Black-52?” Chris asked. It earned him a slap on the shoulders as Karl grinned wickedly.

“You’re thinkin’ of putting in for the selection aren’t you?” Karl laughed digging at Chris’ ribs. “You dirty bastard, eh, eh?”

Chris did his best to force a suitable smile and nodded. “Yeah well y’know. I might be interested but, I wouldn’t wanna say though, y’know how it is,” he said.

Karl sniggered and pulled Chris close. “If you search under Top Circuit you’ll find it along with others if you’re interested. There’s loads of Groups so check the profiles to see what they offer. They’ll all have numbers after a name like this one.” He thumbed over his shoulder to the sofas. “This lot here are specially selected from other Circuits, special order type of stuff so you won’t be able to use Black-52.”

“I, er.. thought On Circuit was supposed to be individuals,” said Chris.

Karl touched a finger to his lips. “Shhh. It is, but this--- well let’s just say that the person who I got the gig from found a way around that. A Locator can take ten people at a time right, so, why only transport one person, why not a whole group?”

“Right so the User gets to pay for one person but they get whole bunch,” said Chris.

Karl shook his head as women poured out of the bathroom laughing and giggling. “You’re missing the point mate. I picked this noisy lot up from the arcades. No On Circuit timer. They get paid direct and on the real cheap too. They think they’re getting a good deal because they don’t have to worry about covering the cost of a Locator, but it’s a fucking stitch up really,” said Karl and shook his head at the blank expression on Chris’ face. “Black-52 is the User. The Reserves are booked-- forget it, you’ll see how it works,” he said and slapped Chris on the back.

The Locator on the other side of the room hummed and seconds later a group poured out into the apartment accompanied by a large guy who looked sternly at Chris. Women who looked slightly the worse for wear teetered across the lounge past Chris heading straight for the bathroom. 

Karl set his beer down and clapped his hands loudly gathering his group around him. He exchanged brief words with the large guy and laughed beckoning Chris over. 

“This is Pauly. Pauly meet Chris. Chris is a mate of mine, he’s checking out the chauffer stuff,” said Karl.

Pauly crushed Chris’ hand in a heavy shake. “Alright mate,” he said. 

Chris noticed blood on the lapel of Pauly’s shirt and consciously avoided staring. “Hi nice to meet you,” he said and flexed his hand when released. 

“It’s a fuckin’ ball tonight mate,” said Pauly to Karl. “You’ll get plenty of action. Some guy brought a double with him so there’s loads of snow. Black says keep an eye out and make sure the girls stay off it. Three in the last switch had to be dragged off out of their heads.”

“No worries mate,” said Karl, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll keep an eye on ‘em. And if there’s action all the better. Black is there right, I got something needs sorting out?”

“Yeah Black’s there,” said Pauly “Upstairs taking care of a few. Don’t fucking go looking though, speak to Charlie on the door when you go in and he’ll pass a message on.”

Karl nodded “Sweet.”

Pauly pointed at the wall. “You’re up mate. Time for me to go too, I got to get this lot unloaded and pick up the next batch,” he said.

Karl slapped Pauly on the shoulder and ordered his group into the Locator. Chris straggled behind as the timer on the E-Wall flashed red and offered a limp wave to Pauly as the Locator hummed into life. 

Instantaneously the quiet confines of the apartment were replaced by a white marble hallway with a staircase crawling up the side. Chris guessed he was in an opulent location in High Towers. Music could be heard coming from behind a large pair of double doors at the end of the hall and occasionally voices drifted down from upstairs. A plush rope barrier was slung across the bottom of the staircase and a bald man dressed head to foot in a red paper suit spoke quietly to another man dressed in a black lounge suit and who was biggest person Chris had ever seen.

Karl ushered his group out of the Locator and veered over to the foot of the staircase to speak in hushed tones with the bald man in red. Chris hovered self consciously by Karl’s group and offered a polite nod of acknowledgement as eyes at the foot of the staircase turned briefly toward him. Painful seconds of scrutiny passed until the group were waved over and the large man unhooked the rope barrier and the women in Karl’s group began drifting up the staircase. 

Karl grabbed Chris’ arm and led him aside. “You have to sign in mate, as a guest. Gimme your flex card,” he said. 

The red suited bald man brandished a pay unit and smiled anonymously at Chris.

Chris fumbled and dutifully produced his flex card and the transaction swiftly completed in wordless silence. 

“Don’t forget to sign out when you leave,” said Karl quietly. “You’ll be charged a fucking fortune otherwise.”

Chris nodded dumbly and watched the women disappear at the top of the staircase. Distant giggling drifted down into the hallway and was cut off by the sound of a door closing. The two men at the foot of the staircase took up protective positions either side of the rope barrier and Chris weathered steely eyed scrutiny for several seconds until Karl dragged him away.

“So what do you think then?” asked Karl quietly leading Chris down the hallway. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s really er.. nice here. We’re still in High Towers right?” asked Chris and glanced up at the marble balustrade at the sound of a door slamming. 

Karl immediately appeared uncomfortable and glanced over his shoulder. “Shut your fucking mouth. What are you trying to do lose me this gig? I thought you were cool with this,” he hissed and cornered Chris near the double doors at the end of the hallway. 

“I am cool, I just didn’t---“

“Well shut up. No one asks questions here okay. You wanna ask anything ask me quietly,” said Karl.

Chris reached for his Tab box. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said and dropped a Calmer.

“For fuck’s sake relax mate. You’re making me nervous. You’re behaving like my mother,” said Karl. He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Here’s the deal. No one’s allowed upstairs without a nod from above so you have to hang out down here. There’s plenty of fun, the girls are On Circuit but no fucking. That’s for upstairs and you have to pay alright.”

Chris nodded and offered his Tab box. “Okay I get it. Look but no touching,” he said. 

Karl stuffed a Fizz in his mouth. “Nah mate. Touching’s fine, but not with your cock alright. Don’t worry, there’s no shortage on display, just don’t come in your pants. Tie a fucking knot in it if you think you are,” he said. 

“Okay got it,” said Chris relaxing a little as the Calmer kicked in. “And don’t worry. I definitely won’t be coming in my pants.” 

“Alright. Good. So, drink as much as you want, Tab up as much as you want, stay the fuck out of trouble and keep your fucking mouth shut,” said Karl and glanced back up the hallway. “Come on we’d better get in or they’ll think something’s going on.”

“Something is going on,” hissed Chris. 

Karl sniggered and pulled open the doors at the end of the hallway. Music remained distant as Chris followed Karl into a large dimly lit lounge filled with mock leather recliners and little else. Black blinds covered tall windows on the far side denying Chris the opportunity to orientate himself and he wondered if the garden terraces were off limits too. 

“Can we go outside, I could do with some fresh air,” said Chris. 

Karl emphatically shook his head and ushered Chris across the lounge. “Nah mate, no can do. Don’t worry we’ll get you a drink and you’ll feel better,” he said.

Karl pushed Chris through another door and into what entertainment the house had to offer en masse. In the shadows, people dressed in expensive lounge suits or cocktail dresses sat around in recliners in small groups. Naked dancers smothered head to foot in luminous body paint gyrated to music offering their best lap dancing to whoever wanted it and the scent of coconut mingled with Tab’acco smoke. Karl led Chris through into adjoining rooms in search of Synthohol, and Chris avoided contact with anything naked wandering around and studiously averted his eyes from forced intimacy on show. Karl touched everything. 

After a spinning away at least 10,000 credits on a roulette wheel with a naked woman on each arm, Karl pulled Chris aside. “I’m going to kill Pauly when I next see him,” said Karl handing Chris a drink and indicated a spare pair of recliners at the side of the room.

Bored beyond belief and having nearly exhausted his stock of Calmers, Chris idly followed Karl and slumped into a recliner. “Why do you say that?” asked Chris. 

“Because he said this place was a fucking ball tonight and it’s not,” said Karl and slapped his thigh. A naked woman smothered in luminous blue body paint straddled him cowgirl style and began slowly gyrating. “All the action must be upstairs.”

Chris nodded slowly as if he cared and picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Shall we go upstairs then?” he asked and received a cautionary slap on the arm from Karl.

“I’ll have to go up soon I think, I expect Charlie’ll be looking for me before long. It’s about time. I’ll get some action then for sure. This is just not worth the effort,” he said and slapped a hand hard against the ass of the woman across his lap. 

“Hey fucker, that’s more than a fucking touch,” said the woman and glanced over her shoulder at Karl. 

Karl landed another hard blow. “Shut the fuck up,” he said.

Chris averted his eyes and watched the players around the roulette wheel. “You er.. you’re gonna er… fuck?” asked Chris. 

Karl laughed coarsely and levelled a punch to Chris’ arm. “Nah man, I’d have to pay. This is a gig remember.” 

Chris winced sympathetically as Karl landed another heavy slap against the woman’s ass and she dived out of the way. 

The woman hissed at Karl. “You fuck!”

“Shut the fuck up and fuck off. Bitch.”

Chris downed warm beer and watched the woman retreat into another room. 

“Fucking bitches,” said Karl and slouched grumpily in the recliner. Digging into his pockets he began pulling out the many Tab packets he had filched from around the house. 

Chris declined when offered and watched Karl lick up several Smackers. “Thanks for inviting me, I think you were right, I needed a change of scene,” he said carefully and surreptitiously dropped a Private blocking out music from the adjoining room. From the shadows he cautiously watched Karl and waited for the Smackers to drop.

Karl came up quickly and blinked at Chris. “Yeah right man, you needed a change of scene.”

“That’s right, you’re absolutely right, I’m really enjoying myself,” said Chris and by the wide grin and the punch he received in his arm he judged Karl was finally ready. “Looking forward to some action.”

“Yeah some action. It’s about fucking time I got some action,” said Karl and filled his mouth with beer. “It’s about time for some action.”

“That’s right, you’re absolutely right. Some action would be really good, you’re right. Some good action, the kind you like,” said Chris and kept a suitable smile on his face as Karl grinned back at him.

“Fuck yeah. You up for that? I’m up for that. Fucking beat the crap of that bitch,” said Karl and sat up in the recliner glaring at the door across the room. 

Fear jolted through Chris and he laughed and held up his beer. “A toast to the action Karl. Karl. Karl. A toast to the action,” he said

Karl blinked and grinned back at Chris. “A toast to the action,” he chimed and slammed his bottle against Chris’.

Chris winced as Karl’s knuckles rapped his and he sat up in the recliner. “You’re right, you need to forget about her. You’re right, you need to think about the action upstairs,” he said and watched a brief confusion pass across Karl’s face. “You’re right I needed a change of scene. Thanks Karl.”

Karl grinned slowly and grabbed Chris in a rough head lock. “You’re the man.”

“Yeah I’m the man,” wheezed Chris and struggled to get free of Karl’s crushing grip. “What about the action? Upstairs.”

Karl poured beer over Chris head and pushed him away. “Yeah upstairs. There’s serious action. Real sweet,” he said. 

Chris choked with a throat full of beer and did his best to nod as he wiped his face. “You’re right, the best action. Like last time. You’re right. Last time was good right?”

Karl downed more beer and nodded. “Yeah man so good, that bitch screaming she was so out of it and I’m sweating like fucking pig. So fucking good. It’s better when they don’t like it but I don’t fucking care,” he said. 

Chris matched his own nodding with Karl’s and suppressed personal disgust with a smile. “You’re so right, it’s better, and you were sweating like a fucking pig,” he said and watched Karl’s face light up with enthusiasm.

“That’s right man, I was so fucking high. Those stupid fucks don’t know what they’re missing sitting around watching the fucking show,” said Karl and put a fist under Chris’ nose. “Pump the bitch full of Green afterward and send her home, she won’t know what fucking happened.”

“Yeah, yeah the best way. You’re right man. That’s the best way,” said Chris and slapped his hand over Karl’s fist pushing it away. “You’re right, you’re gonna get some action now, same as before.”

“Fuck yeah, I looking forward to it,” said Karl. “Black always asks for me when there’s a gig that needs some action. I’m the best.”

“You’re right, you’re the best. That’s why Black asks for you, he thinks you’re the best and that’s why he asks for you” said Chris carefully.

“Yeah Black always asks for me, she’s great, I really like her, she’s a fucking bitch but I really like her,” said Karl and drained his beer. 

Chris took a careful sip from his own bottle allowing Karl’s slip of information to settle. “You’re right, she’s great, you really like her,” he said.

“Yeah I’d love to give her some action, personal action,” laughed Karl and lunged a punch at Chris. “I’d give her some action. Yeah I’d do that. She like’s to watch though. She watches me. She only likes to watch, and her fucking friends. Fucking bitch.” 

“Yeah, yeah, she likes to watch. You really like her. She thinks you’re the best. You’re right, gonna get some action now and---“

Chris flew back in the recliner as Karl leaped to his feet and threw his empty bottle across the room. 

“Place your bets,” Karl yelled. “Place your bets. Black or Red, place your bets.” 

People at the roulette table laughed hysterically as Karl staggered across the room and slapped people on their backs. Chris’ heart hammered in his chest as he crawled upright in the recliner and wiped the front of his beer soaked shirt. Karl hung over the roulette table flashing his flex card and Chris breathed a distinctive sigh of relief as Karl became preoccupied with throwing chips on the table. 

Dropping his last two remaining Calmers, Chris sat in the recliner in the corner of the room and tried to stop his hands from shaking. 

The bald man in the red suit appeared when Karl was the only person left at the roulette table and had all but exhausted his chips. 

“I gotta go, mate, duty calls,” said Karl offering Chris a handshake and a distinctive wink. “If you’re still around when I get back we’ll do some Smackers yeah and go to the strip club on 9th.”

Chris maintained a smile and shook Karl’s hand. “Yeah, yeah sure. Have a good time,” he said and studiously avoided any reference to their previous conversation. Karl seemed none the wiser. 

“Sure man and remember, keep your fucking mouth shut,” said Karl and knocked a salute at Chris. 

Chris allowed his veneer to drop as Karl followed the bald man out of the room. “You should take some of your own fucking advice you Smacked up prick,” he said under his breath.

Chris remained sat in the empty room counting silent minutes until he estimated enough time had passed to ensure he could slip away without bumping into Karl again. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with the idea to call it a night. Leaving the solace of the roulette room, he made his way through virtually deserted rooms, a few remaining dancers sprawled across sofa recliners apparently asleep despite the constant music playing. 

Chris peered through the crack in the double doors into the hallway and stepped out drawing the doors closed behind him. Whispering across the hall’s marble floor in his loafers Chris headed quietly for the Locator at the far end with a sense of increasing impending relief. As he drew parallel to the bottom of the staircase Karl’s reminder he needed to sign out caused him to hesitate and he swore under his breath.

Chris dug out his flex card and looked around. The sentinels at the bottom of the staircase on his arrival were no where to be seen and neither was the pay unit. Instead the plush rope barrier dangled over the bottom tread of the stairs and trailed across the floor. 

“Hello? I er… I need to sign out,” said Chris and listened to silence as the echoes of his voice died. 

Chris crossed to the foot of the staircase and hovered nervously worrying his flex card between his fingers. 

“Hello? I need to sign out. Can someone let me out? I need to go home now,” said Chris and sighed. “This is just fucking great.”

Against better judgement, Chris cautiously climbed the staircase and drifted across the landing at the top. Doors to numerous rooms curved out of sight along a polished marble corridor and indistinct noises drifted towards Chris. 

“Hello I need to sign out,” said Chris. Distinctly uneasy about his trespass, he approached the door nearest to him and knocked. Receiving no response he tried the handle and slowly opened the door onto a dark room. 

“Hello? Is anyone there? I’m sorry to bother you but I need to find someone to let me out?” he said. “Is anyone there? Lights?”

Lights bloomed around an empty bedroom. The bed appeared used and the scent of coconut lingered in the air. 

“This is just fucking great,” breathed Chris and shut the door. Steeling himself, he followed the corridor as it curved gently knocking on doors until he lost sight of the landing at the top of the staircase. 

“Where the hell is everyone?” muttered Chris increasingly ill at ease and shut another door on an empty bedroom. As if in answer, a strange noise drifted along the corridor and Chris fumbled for his Tab box. “I do not want to be here,” he breathed and dropped half a Relaxer. 

Edging along the corridor Chris pressed himself against the wall watching closed door after closed door appear as the corridor curved gently. Double doors standing slightly ajar at the far end came into view and the dark interior of the room glimpsed through the gap flickered with light. Chris strained his hearing attempting to discern the noises from within. Nearby on the left of the corridor, a bedroom door hung open; the first sign of life Chris had seen since his exploration began. 

Taking hesitant steps, Chris crept further down the corridor. The strange sounds continued and as he drew level with the open bedroom door, he tore his eyes away from the end of the corridor and glanced through the door. A chair thickly upholstered in white silk lay on its side and broken glass from a smashed wall mirror littered the white carpet. Chris faltered as his attention fixed on a smear of blood on the door frame and he searched the narrow view of the room picking out spots of blood near the chair. Cautiously he moved across the threshold into the room, and the corner of a bed covered in white sheets slowly appeared in his line of sight. White turned to dark red as Chris took another step and froze, staring unblinking at bed sheets soaked with blood and walls splattered with marks of violence. 

With a shaky breath Chris reversed his steps and slowly emerged into the corridor. A heavy thump and raised voices from beyond the double doors at the end of the corridor sent him bolting back to the staircase. Stumbling he took the final five stairs in a leap and stifled a cry as he landed heavily knocking his knees on the hard marble floor. In a frantic effort he reattached the rope barrier across the stairs and limped to the Locator as the sound of voices drifted down to the hallway. Seconds later the bald man dressed in a red suit appeared at the top of the staircase and looked down over the balustrade. 

Chris held his breath trying to control his breathing and offered a limp wave.

“Can I help you Sir?” asked the bald man and cast a critical appraisal over the hallway.

Chris covered a leap of adrenaline with a smile as he caught the rope barrier swinging slowly in the corner of his eye. “Hi there, yeah, yeah, I er… I er.. had a great time and I er.. thought I …well I er… y’know.. it’s late and I er… thought I’d go now. If that’s ok. I er.. need to sign out so I was waiting, to sign out and go. Thanks,” he said. 

“One moment,” said the bald man and disappeared. 

Chris let out a trapped breath and scooted over to the bottom of the stairs and rested his fingers on the swinging rope barrier. A blood spot on the second step of the stairs froze him. Dragging his eyes away and fixing a smile, Chris dug his flex card out a pocket as the bald man appeared again at the top of the staircase and slowly descended. Chris kept his eyes fixed on the pay unit during the sign out. 

“Thanks very much,” said Chris as he was handed back his card. 

“Good night Sir,” said the bald man and gestured toward the Locator. 

Chris hoped his smile didn’t look nervous as he crossed the hall and stepped into the Locator. Reluctant to punch in his apartment’s address he entered the only other address he knew by heart. The Locator hummed into life and as the bald man retreated back up the staircase Chris stared at another spot of blood on the hallway’s white marble floor near the Locator. It disappeared and Café Monsieur appeared instantaneously, a few late night stragglers sitting at the bar and Chris immediately punched in his apartment’s address. The café vanished as quickly as it had appeared and Chris let out a string of expletives as he finally staggered into his apartment. 

Vowing never to go to The Barney Club ever again, Chris passed out several hours later heavily dosed on Oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

Racked by indecision, Chris brushed his thumb across the delete button on his Vid-Caller and pushed fingers through his shower damp hair. Precious seconds dribbled away bringing an inevitable conclusion as a new timer flicked on the wall and the Locator hummed into life. Chris glanced up at the familiar squeak from Zee’s trainers on the tiled floor. Consistent as he was punctual, Zee appeared to be wearing the same clothes and his hair hung in limp straggles across his brows. 

Chris offered a wan smile. “Hey,” he said, and set the Vid-Caller down on the coffee table in front of him. Resignation sat heavily in his stomach. 

“Hey yourself,” said Zee, and dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

Chris avoided dark eyes he knew remained on him and rubbed his hands together. “Er… please, er, sit down if you want,” he said and caught the familiar scent of musk as Zee immediately crossed to sofa recliner. 

“Nice day,” said Zee, glancing briefly over his shoulder at orange sunlight trickling through the window blinds. He watched Chris nod and worry the edge of a thumbnail. Zee knocked an ankle across a knee and fiddled with the torn hem of his jeans. “Busy getting rid of dead bodies from your dungeon?” he asked with smile.

“What?” Chris’ head snapped up and caution suddenly reflected in Zee’s eyes. 

“That comment was obviously inappropriate,” said Zee drawing a slow breath.

“Sorry I er.. I just… um.” Chris scratched through his thickening beard. 

“No, I should apologise,” said Zee. 

“No, no, there’s no need to apologise, I er… I just had er.. a bad night. I didn’t sleep too good,” said Chris and ground the heel of a hand into an eye. He reached for his Tab box and dropped a Calmer. 

Zee pulled at a thread on his jeans. “Bad dreams?” he asked and received a noncommittal nod as Chris snapped the Tab box shut. “Nightmares are unpleasant. They can leave you feeling pretty shitty, I know.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” said Chris and threaded his fingers around the edge of his Tab box. 

Zee settled an arm on the back of the sofa recliner and restrained the desire to subject Chris to intense scrutiny. Surprised to be in the apartment again, the current reception was nonetheless confusing and he suspected the source of discomfort displayed by Chris to be different from previous visits. As minutes of silence slipped by Zee rose from the sofa recliner and crossed to the windows glimpsing the fading sunset through a gap in the blinds. 

“When I first came here I said that On Circuit was supposed to be anonymous. I didn’t mean just about names and things to do with me and my life,” said Zee, widening a blind with his finger tips. “It goes both ways. I never discuss what happens with other Users, even stuff they talk about. I know you’ll probably not believe me, or trust me, but that doesn’t matter. I just thought you should know. I give you my word, for what it’s worth.” 

Chris winced as he exposed a tender piece of flesh on the tip of his finger and sucked at the small amount of blood that began to ooze from the wound. 

“That’s okay, I um, um. Sorry, I’m not really good company right now. I wasn’t even sure if I er, should er, invite you again, actually,” said Chris. 

Silence filled minutes dragged on. Zee closed his eyes against the glare through the blinds and his mental picture of Chris sat in the recliner altered as soft paper loafers began to pace across the lounge floor behind him. Shut off from the outside world Zee reminded himself that Chris was User. “Would it make you feel any better to know that I’m okay with what happened last time?” he asked. The sound of pacing ceased. Paper clothing shifted slightly. 

Chris stared at the black tiled floor of the lounge. The shadow of Zee’s body cut through sun orange stripes cast by the window blinds and moved, turning until it was only a sliver. Chris became aware of a familiar sensation of being intently studied and out of the corner of his eye, the dark solid form of Zee folded its arms.

“Would you prefer to be alone, Christopher?” Zee asked. 

“I don’t know,” breathed Chris. “I really don’t know.”

Zee ran a finger across his brow and tugged at his piercing. “Okay, what about, we just keep it simple and hang out until you figure it out?”

Chris screwed an eye shut against the glare of the sun as he looked up at Zee. “Yeah that sounds, that’s sounds about right. If that’s okay with you?”

Zee took a few lingering steps away from the window. “I’m fine with that. Sounds perfect actually,” he said as the light caught Chris’ face in profile emphasising dark circles under his eyes.

Chris dug into his Tab box again and dropped another Calmer. “Okay, so er.. you wanna watch a film or something? Or go outside or, I dunno.”

Zee dug his hands in his pockets. “I’d like to go outside, for a little while, if that’s okay with you,” he said. “But if you prefer me to stay---“

“No, no, no, outside is fine,” said Chris breaking into a quick stride across the lounge. “I’ll get you a jacket and then er.. you’ll er.. be warm and er..anyway, whatever.”

Abandoned in the lounge as Chris disappeared through the bedroom door, Zee turned back to the window. Plants on the garden terraces moved in the strong wind the other side and the clear sky beckoned. Zee took a deep breath and crossed to the wall panel brushing his fingers across the window control and the blinds slowly lifted filling the lounge with late afternoon light. 

Chris emerged from the bedroom carrying a thick padded jacket and a blanket. In full sun, the dark circles under his eyes appeared more noticeable and Zee thought his host’s remarkable blue eyes were dulled with worry. 

“Thank you,” said Zee accepting the jacket from Chris and slipped his arms into the voluminous warmth. Unfamiliar with the clasps, he fiddled with the strange loops on the front of the jacket until Chris’ fingers tentatively assisted. He smiled as Chris’ eyes finally met his own. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” said Chris, and surrounded by the distinct scent of Zee focused on fixing the loop clasp near the neck of the jacket. Tugging at draw strings, he pulled the hood over Zee’s head. 

Buried inside the jacket Zee flapped his arms a little. “Big jacket,” he said.

“Yeah, it er… was my dad’s,” said Chris and self consciously snatched a back a hand that had strayed fingers along Zee's arm. He handed over the blanket. “In case you er.. wanna sit out there, y’know, wrap um, like wrap it over you’re legs and, well, whatever.”

“Thank you,” said Zee, curling the blanket over an arm. “Can I make a deal with you Christopher?”

Chris froze. “What?”

Zee smiled easily. “If I’m outside, will you at least try and get some sleep for as long as I stay out there?” he asked quietly. “Even if it’s nothing more than laying down for a while. I think you could do with taking it easy. You look pretty tired.”

Chris coughed and ran fingers through his hair. “Er.. yeah ok, I’ll er.. I’ll try. I’ll er.. Well I’ll be sat here and um---”

“No. The deal is, you lay down or I don’t go outside,” said Zee. 

Chris fidgeted under Zee’s persistent stare. “What? You? No you, you can’t not-“ He sighed, Zee’s face insisting there was no debate on the matter. “Okay I’ll er.. I’ll go lay down until you come in. But, don’t- only if you don’t deliberately stay out there and freeze to death.”

“I won’t,” said Zee and extended a hand toward Chris. “So we have a deal right?”

Chris stared down at Zee’s hand poking out from inside the cuff of the jacket. “Yeah I guess,” he said and slipped his hand into Zee’s which wrapped its fine warm fingers around his hand and squeezed gently. 

Zee smiled as Chris’ thumb ran over the back of his hand. “Okay. Thank you,” he said. Chris’ hand seemed to reluctantly leave his as Chris stepped away and opened the window. A blast of chill afternoon air with a scent of leaf mould blew into the lounge.

“No climbing,” said Chris as Zee stepped past him.

“No climbing, I promise,” said Zee adjusting the hood of the jacket around his face. The window hushed closed and he pointed towards the bedroom door. Chris mouthed an exasperated okay and Zee laughed, stepping down through the garden terraces feeling the benefit of the jacket as a sharp wind bit its way through his jeans.

In his bedroom, Chris touched the control panel beside the window and blinds lifted slowly on the arcing window. Zee came into view strolling along the lowest garden terrace and catching sight of Chris mouthed ‘lay down Christopher’. 

“Okay, okay,” said Chris and digging his Tab box out of a pocket and tossing it aside crawled onto his bed. 

Zee’s head poked above a planter and mouthed ‘I’m watching you, Christopher,’ and Chris grabbed a pillow wrapping his arms around it and tucked it under his chin. 

“I’m laying down,” he said. “Okay I’m laying down. See?”

Zee disappeared momentarily, reappearing dragging a garden recliner up through the terraces to the small patio the other side of the bedroom window. Wrapping himself in the blanket he settled into the recliner in a small patch of late afternoon sun. Chris caught the occasional glance. 

“I’m not going to be able to sleep,” said Chris and sniggered into his pillow as Zee defiantly mouthed ‘yes you are’. 

Chris rearranged pillows into a pile and adjusted his position at the top of his bed, laying parallel with Zee the other side of the window. The afternoon drifted away and Chris finally fell into intermittent dozing as the light began to fade. He opened his eyes to find the recliner the other side of the window empty and the sky a pale lavender. At movement reflected in the window he turned over. Zee stood in the bedroom doorway sporting a red nose and flushed cheeks with the blanket slung around his shoulders. 

“Hey,” said Chris and rubbed the heel of a hand into his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” said Zee leaning against the door frame. 

“No that’s okay, you didn’t wake me. I wasn’t really asleep,” said Chris and failed to stifle a yawn. 

“If you say so,” said Zee and watched Chris stretch extravagantly across the bed. “Feel better?”

Chris propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed sleepy grit out of an eye. “Yeah I do actually. Thanks. It was a good idea. You look frozen,” he said and stifled another yawn.

Zee dug himself into the blanket and sniffed. “I didn’t break our deal though. I stayed out as long as I wanted to without freezing to death. It’s very beautiful out there,” he said. 

Chris nodded and tried to speak through a yawn. “Yeah, yeah. It’s okay out there I guess,” he said and shook his head as his yawn gripped him. “Goddamn.” He flopped back onto the pillows rubbing his face with a hand. 

“Still tired?” asked Zee

Chris sighed. “Yeah.”

“Want some company?”

Chris hesitated at the offer. The small gap between Zee’s t-shirt and jeans offered tantalizing encouragement from under the blanket. “I er.. yeah, why not,” he capitulated. 

Zee crossed to the bed and toed off his trainers. Sliding carefully toward Chris he lay down short of touching and pulled the blanket around him as he propped his head on his hand. 

Chris immediately turned over onto his stomach and hugged a pillow close under his chin as proximity sent a flush through him.

“You should look out there more often,” said Zee and glanced past Chris to the darkening terraces. “Especially when it’s as clear as it is now and the stars are out. That bright light over there though isn’t a star, that’s Venus, I think. In fact I’m sure it is,” he said. 

Chris peered through the window at a few spots of light sat against a darkening backdrop. “I wouldn’t know what Venus looked like if it came and bit me on the ass,” he said and heard Zee stifle a laugh.

“Well it’s there, I promise you. It’s the really bright thing very low on the horizon. On the far left,” said Zee and pointed as Chris craned his neck. 

“What that there? That’s moving,” said Chris pointing at a tiny bright dot travelling swiftly across the sky. 

“I think that’s either a communication satellite or an aeroplane Christopher. Look down, right near the horizon,” said Zee. 

“I can’t see anything,” said Chris leaning up on his elbows. “What the hell are you talking about? Where?” Zee’s arm suddenly appeared pointing past his face. “Oh right I see it. That’s Venus huh?”

“I’m almost sure that’s Venus,” said Zee withdrawing his hand. “And you should be able to see Saturn when the moon comes up.” 

“Uh-huh.” A strange low growling noise beside Chris drew his attention away from the window. “What the hell was that? Was that your stomach?” 

Zee’s brows disappeared under his fringe. “Yes, it was actually,” he said and pulled the blanket close around him. 

“Are you hungry?” Chris asked. 

“A little,” conceded Zee. 

Chris pulled himself up. “Why didn’t you say anything? Do you want some food? Are you really hungry? I can order in if you want. Would you like some noodles or something different to last time or, whatever. What do you want?” he asked and watched Zee bury his face under the blanket. “Zee?”

“Christopher, please, mercy.” Zee poked a nose out from under the blanket. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, you’re hungry,” said Chris. “You are hungry right?”

Zee nodded under the stern expression on Chris’ face. “Yes I am hungry Christopher. Very hungry actually,” he said.

“Well you should’ve said, I--- okay here’s the deal, if you’re---” said Chris. 

“Oh we’re making another deal now?” asked Zee. 

“Yeah we’re making another deal,” said Chris. “The deal is, if you come here and we hang out, if you’re hungry you tell me straight away and we order in some food. Okay?”

Zee contemplated and pulled at his brow ring. “As long as you don’t ask me if I’m hungry when I arrive and wait for me to ask for something to eat, that sounds okay to me,” he said.

Chris carefully extended a handshake toward Zee. “So we have a deal?” he asked.

Zee smiled and poked a hand out from under the blanket and shook Chris’ hand. “We have a deal, Christopher,” he said and noticed the same lingering touch of Chris’ thumb across the back of his hand.

“So er.. what do you want to eat?” asked Chris finally allowing Zee’s hand to slip from his own. “Do you want something different to last time or, or what?”

Zee curled an arm under his head. “That soup was pretty good I had last time,” he said. “And I suppose I should practice my chopstick technique, so maybe noodles. Definitely some of those crackers. I’ll leave the rest up to you if you think there’s anything else I should try.”

Chris scrambled off the bed. “You got it, wait there, I’ll be right back,” he said.

Zee watched Chris disappear into the lounge at a half limp half bounce. Turning back to watch the ever darkening sky he rearranged the pillows on the bed and sprawled out on his stomach. Stars began to appear as low lights in the floor of the bedroom bloomed softly and Chris’ reflection appeared briefly in the window. 

“Do you fancy trying something spicy?” asked Chris.

Zee turned on his side and grinned. “Is that an offer Christopher?”

“To eat,” said Chris flatly though a smile crept out from behind the bristles of his beard.

Zee chuckled and pinched the blanket between his toes pulling it over his feet. “I’m happy to try anything Christopher as long as you don’t expect me to like it and you’re okay with me not eating it if I don’t like it,” he said. 

“Yeah I’m fine with that. You can’t like everything right,” said Chris. 

“That’s very true,” said Zee as Chris grinned and bounced back into the lounge.

Zee sat up and removed his jacket, dropping it onto the floor at the side of the bed and returned to looking out of the window. When Chris returned and crawled onto the bed beside him, Zee lay his head against the pillow and stared into blue eyes that appeared a little less fatigued. 

“Order is in. Georgio is busy so, it’ll be about an hour wait, but it’ll be worth it,” said Chris and pulled a pillow under his chin as he looked out of the window. 

“I’m looking forward to it. Thank you Christopher,” said Zee and received a slight nod. 

“So er… I guess we er… hang out while we wait,” said Chris and watched what little he could see of Zee’s reflection in the window. 

Zee smiled and curled his arms around a pillow raising his head. “Sure why not,” he said and looked back at the window. The bedroom reflected off the glass and he glanced at Chris. “Would it be alright to ask to turn the lights down some so I could see the stars please?”

“Yeah, yeah sure, er.. Lights off,” said Chris and stared at the block of light from the door to the lounge reflected in the window. “Is that okay or shall I turn the lights down in the other room too?”

Zee hesitated and glanced at Chris. “Maybe a little if that’s not too much to ask. I’m being very demanding aren’t I?”

Chris scrambled off the bed and tripped over one of Zee’s trainers on the way to the bedroom door. “No, no, not at all, I mean if you er – lights down – wanna see the stars then that’s understandable,” he said and crawled back into position on the bed resisting the scent of Zee that enticed him to move closer.

Zee smiled as his eyes became accustomed to the dark and small pin pricks of light appeared in the night sky beyond the window. “You’re incredibly generous Christopher, to indulge me,” he said.

Chris paused as Zee’s stomach rumbled loudly. “That food had better hurry up,” he said. “But you’re welcome. Ad besides, I wouldn’t be looking out of the window if you weren’t here.”

“Do you not look up at the sky and wonder what’s out there?” Zee asked. 

Chris shrugged and lay his head on the pillow to look at Zee. “No, not really. I mean, it’s er.. just the sky right?” Zee’s brows appeared to pinch in the shadows. 

“No it’s not. It’s not just the sky. Look, there’s Cassiopeia,” said Zee and pointed a finger. “And there’s Orion. And there’s Seven Sisters and there’s so much out there that you can’t see with a naked eye. There are nebulas and solar systems and whole galaxies that we’ll never get to in a million years.”

Chris raised his eyes to the darkness. “What are you pointing at?” he asked. 

Zee chuckled and stretched out his arm to trace a ‘W’ with his finger. “Cassiopeia. And that’s Orion,” he said and traced a square. “And that cluster over there is Seven Sisters, but there’s more than seven it only appears to be seven.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” asked Chris genuinely intrigued. 

“Books,” said Zee simply. 

“What real books?” asked Chris, turning on his side. The need to ask questions fought with Zee’s cautionary warning that On Circuit was anonymous. “I mean, like not holobooks but like real books?”

Zee turned his head and rested it against the pillow as he looked at Chris. “Yes,” he said. 

“You like astronomy and stuff like that,” said Chris knowing he was pushing the issue as Zee appeared to contemplate.

“Yes,” said Zee and shifted on the bed returning to look out the window. 

“Wait there a second,” said Chris and scrambled off the bed. 

Zee glanced back over a shoulder as Chris tripped out of the bedroom. Smiling to himself even though his better judgement told him Chris was a User and he should keep the Reserve from drifting into personal territories, he settled into the comfort of the bed contentedly rubbing a foot in the warmth of the blanket. 

Chris returned to the bedroom carrying a box and crawled awkwardly onto the bed. Resting the box on pillow he requested a low level of light and floor lights bloomed softly around the bedroom. 

“I think you might like this,” he said and opened the box and began rifling through its contents. 

Zee frowned as Chris offered him a small brown rock from the box. “What’s this?” he asked turning on side and the wide grin on Chris’ face brought a smile to his own. “Christopher, tell me what is it?”

“It’s Mars,” said Chris settling down to lay beside Zee. “You’re holding a piece of Mars in your hand.”

Zee’s eyes widened and he turned the small rock between his fingers. “This is a piece of Mars?” 

“Yup, I picked it up myself from Valles Marineres, you’re not supposed to of course but I did,” said Chris and laughed at the astonishment on Zee’s face. 

“You’ve been off world?” Zee asked. 

“Yeah, yeah with my dad. I was only about six years old,” said Chris, and flicked a finger through the contents of the box. “He er.. was a Geologist involved with off world research so, me and my mom got to go with him once.”

Zee flopped onto his back and held the rock high over his head against the back drop of the night sky. “What was it like?” he asked quietly, aware he touched a personal boundary. 

“It was okay, I guess I was too young to really appreciate it,” said Chris and picked a holophoto frame out of the box. “We flew out as far as Saturn and took a look at the moons. Io was my favourite I think, I think that’s the bluish one.” 

Zee lowered his hand and sniffed at the rock. “Amazing,” he said, and stuck out his tongue and licked the rock.

“Hey don’t lick my rock,” said Chris swiping out a hand. Zee pulled the rock out of reach. 

“I wanted to know what it tasted like,” objected Zee and at Chris’ insistence handed back the rock. The brief closeness allowed a tentative touch and Chris appeared not to mind.

Chris propped himself on an elbow and rummaged in the box. “Here, have a piece of Moon to go with your rock meal,” he said and handed Zee a small grey rock. 

Zee grinned and leaned close nosing over the edge of the box. “What else in there?” he asked accepting the rock from Chris and turning it in his fingers. 

Chris’ fingers paused in their drift across the contents of the box as Zee’s leg settled close beside his. “This er… this is er… well that’s a stalactite, that’s boring,” he said dropping a long thin calciferous deposit back into the box and turned on the holophoto frame. He glanced at the touch of Zee’s shoulder against his and shifted his hips against a growing pressure in his groin. 

Chris cleared his throat and handed the holophoto frame to Zee. 

“A crater,” said Zee examining the image in the holophoto. 

Chris rummaged through the contents of the box and lifted up a small dark pea shaped object. “Created by this,” said Chris and dropped the dark pea into Zee’s waiting hand. “It’s er.. meteorite, probably about I dunno, millions of years old.” 

“What this is a piece of it?” Zee asked and rested the holophoto frame on the edge of the box. He chased the pea around the palm of his hand with a finger before handing it back to Chris. 

“No, no, this is the meteorite, or what’s left of it after it created that massive crater,” said Chris and rolled the dark pea between his fingers. “My dad gave it to me for my birthday. I didn’t really think much of it at the time. I don’t really know why I keep this stuff.” He dropped the pea back into the box and turned off the holophoto frame. 

Zee studied Chris’ profile. “Thank you for showing me,” he said. 

Chris glanced down at the edge of Zee’s shoulder touching his own. “Yeah well I er.. don’t know anyone who’s interested in this stuff so I don’t get to er.. show it to anyone so um, well um..”

“Are you interested in geology?” asked Zee placing the Moon rock carefully back into the box. 

“No, no, not really,” said Chris and closed the box. “My dad wanted me to be I suppose. But er… y’know I was a kid and er.. thought it was boring and well, I never got to see him much because he was always away and er.. then er.. Well he died and I er.. I suppose I just keep this stuff because I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’m sorry,” said Zee and smiled as Chris glanced an offered his own half smile. 

“That’s okay, I mean er… y’know I was young and er.. like I said he was always off world doing stuff, so I never really got to know him well. I was only like eleven years old when he went missing, he was er… on a, survey thing or something off world and um, so it was like he just never came home again. Pretty weird actually,” said Chris and pushed the box aside. Zee’s face seemed to hover close beside him. “It’s like, I dunno, it’s like he’s just going to walk through the door one day and everything’ll be the same as it was before.”

“I know that feeling,” said Zee.

Chris glanced down finding his eyes level with Zee’s mouth. “You do?” he asked and watched Zee’s lips form of a quiet yes. Drawn to the warmth of Zee along side his body he leaned and a touch of breath against his cheek became the contours of Zee’s face. A nose nudged against his and his lips touched the coarse stubble on the side of a jaw line until a warm mouth met his own. 

Chris sank into exploring willing reciprocation as Zee’s tongue invited his mouth closer and his body wanting to turn, pressed itself closer against Zee’s side and slipped a hand under the blanket. His fingers found the gap between t-shirt and jeans exposing smooth flesh on Zee’s lower back, and memory traced the pattern of a tattoo. 

Zee drew breath as Chris’ mouth sank to his neck and he glanced at the reflection in the window as Chris’ hands pushed his t-shirt higher. He told himself that Chris was a User as he dragged his t-shirt over his head and stifled a moan when Chris leant heavily across his back and settled a gentle bite against the tattoo on the nape of his neck. 

Pillows slithered off the edge of the bed sending the box clattering to the floor as Zee stretched out his arms and buried his face into the pillow nearest him, stifling a groan as the weight of Chris’ thigh pressed between his own and teeth grazed across his shoulder blade. He relinquished to an urging touch at his shoulder and turned his back into Chris’ chest, nosing into blonde hair as a firm hand spread across his flank and a bite settled on the nape of his neck once more. Reaching behind him, he grasped a handful of unruly curls as the back of Chris’ head and blue eyes met his own briefly as he pulled Chris’ mouth to his. He told himself again that Chris was a User and fumbled with the buttons on his jeans as Chris’ hand settled over his crotch and gripped firmly. 

A small gasp escaped Zee as Chris sucked gently on his lip and bent his head to settle a bite into the hollow of his neck. 

“I should shower,” breathed Zee, curling his fingers into Chris’ hair. 

Chris ran his hand up Zee’s flank curling fingers around those in his hair. “No,” he said, and moved his head, nosing into the pit of Zee’s arm to inhale deeply. Shifting as Zee writhed against him; he moved lower and grazed a bite across a rib. He froze instantly as Zee flinched. “Sorry I didn’t mean that to hurt,” he said.

“I’m fine,” said Zee, turning slightly.

Chris licked at the strange taste on his lips and studied Zee’s ribs. “Are you wearing, spray pen?” he asked and rubbed a finger across an area of concealed discolouration on Zee’s flank. 

Zee flinched and pulled away slightly. “Christopher, please.” 

“No,” said Chris.

Reluctantly submitting to hands running lightly over his flank, Zee allowed Chris to turn him slowly. In the low light he knew blemishes could clearly be seen across his ribs and lay his face against a pillow. 

Chris teased the edge of Zee’s jeans down over a hip revealing a poorly disguised blush of purple. “These are bruises. Where did you get these?” he asked. 

Zee looked over his shoulder and leaning back into Chris, curled his fingers into blonde hair. “You know I’m not going to talk about it,” he said and pulled Chris’ reluctant mouth to his. “Don’t think about it, Christopher.”

“I can’t not think about it,” whispered Chris and trailed warm breath down Zee’s neck. 

Zee shifted and suppressed the desire to move out from under Chris’ hand as it touched a tender space near his hip. “Try,” he said and closed his eyes. 

Chris shook his head slowly and traced a thumb across the base of Zee’s spine making him writhe. “Can we make a deal?” he asked, and responded to the urgent pressure in his groin pulling Zee close. 

“What kind of deal Christopher?” asked Zee and arched his back, grinding his ass against Chris. 

Chris mouthed across Zee’s shoulder. “You show me where it hurts and I won’t touch you there,” he breathed and traced his tongue over the curls of Zee’s neck tattoo. The gesture earned a moan of approval and Zee reached over his shoulder turning his face and pulled Chris into a kiss. 

“Deal,” said Zee, snatching a breath between Chris’ mouth closing over his. 

Chris began to trail his fingers across Zee’s body, lingering on areas he already knew would be out of bounds. At a minute shake of Zee’s head, Chris continued to explore with gentle fingers mapping out a total of fifteen bruises across Zee’s ribs and suppressed unpleasant thoughts about who or what had put them there. 

Zee spread flat against the bed hugging a pillow to his face and telling himself again Chris was a User, pulled himself back out of the compelling sensations Chris’ fingers managed to elicit as they repeatedly traced the tattoo low on his spine. He lifted his hips as Chris’ fingers delved into the waistband of his jeans and allowed a concessionary groan to escape as they were pushed down. The touch of Chris’ lips against the base of his spine made him writhe and he reluctantly shook his head as fingers brushed over the disguised wealds across his buttocks.

Chris pushed Zee’s jeans lower trailing his fingers into the hollows behind his knees and up into the gap between his legs. 

Zee screwed his eyes shut and mumbled into the pillow. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go—“ He gasped as Chris leant across him a bit gently on his shoulder. 

“No,” breathed Chris. 

“Are you always this demanding, Christopher?” Zee asked shakily and turned on his side to smile at Chris. He curled his fingers into the shoulder of Chris’ shirt as a hand ran carefully over his hip avoiding a bruise and cupped his balls in its palm. 

Chris shook his head. “Am I? I never remember doing things like this, I’m always high on Tabs,” he said, and tentatively drifted his fingers lower as he settled his mouth on Zee’s. He felt his shirt rip away from his shoulder as Zee’s grip tightened.

Zee futilely tried to release his legs trapped in his jeans as Chris pulled him close. Intimacy froze as the announce tone on the Locator pinged softly from the lounge. 

“Food,” said Zee.

Chris swore under his breath and looked through the bedroom door. “You gotta be kidding me, Georgio.”

Zee sniggered into Chris’ neck as the announce tone on the Locator pinged again and shared an urgent kiss with Chris. 

“I better get that,” said Chris, scrambling away from Zee. “Stay there, stay there. Oh shit.” He fumbled with the front of his pants attempting to conceal an unruly erection and pulled at his torn shirt. 

Zee dragged a pillow over his head to stifle laughter. 

“Zee!”

“It’s okay I’ll go,” said Zee throwing the pillow aside and struggling off the end of the bed pulled up his jeans. “Where’s my t-shirt?”

Chris dived across the bed and tossed Zee’s t-shirt across the bedroom as the Locator’s announce tone pinged again. “Go, go. Tell Georgio I’m there in a minute,” he said and pulled off his torn shirt.

Zee headed quickly into the lounge dragging his t-shirt over his head and closing the final buttons on his jeans. Grinning over his shoulder as Chris shut the bedroom door, he pressed ‘Enter’ on the Locator panel. His smile lost its lustre as instinct sent a warning jolt through him when two men dressed in dark suits appeared in Locator alcove. 

The taller of the two with what appeared to be a permanent scowl looked Zee up and down. “Mr… Pine?” he asked in low voice. 

“Chris?” called Zee, keeping his eyes fixed on the tall man. “There’s someone here to see you.” 

Chris’ voice drifted out of the bedroom. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be there now. Just gimme a minute.”

“He’ll be here in a minute,” said Zee.

“You don’t mind if we come in and wait then,” said the tall man.

Zee debated. “Chris will be here in a moment. You can ask him that,” he said.

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” said the tall man. 

“I’m sure I don’t know so you’ll have to wait for him to tell you himself,” said Zee and weathered an intimidating stare. 

The bedroom door opened and Zee listened to the sound of paper loafers hesitate slightly as they crossed the lounge. Chris appeared beside Zee wearing a new casual paper suit and Zee recognised a nervous affectation as Chris ran his hand over the empty pocket where he would normally keep his Tab box.

“Who are you?” Chris asked. 

“Good evening Mr Pine,” said the tall man in the same low husky voice and brandished an identity flex card. “I’m Detective Bana. This is Lieutenant Payne.” He gestured unceremoniously to the shorter man with red hair who stood beside him. “We’ve got some questions we’d like to ask you about an incident which occurred at the Café Monseiur last week.”

A jolt of adrenaline shot through Chris and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh I see. Erm.. okay,” he said.

The tall man scowled at Zee. “May we come in?” he asked. 

“Yeah yeah, sure er.. er.. come and sit down,” said Chris and nervously gestured to the recliners. 

The two men moved out of the Locator and Zee stepped out of the way touching Chris lightly on the arm. 

“Christopher, can I have a quick word with you please?” asked Zee and meaningfully eyed the kitchen door. 

“Not right now,” said Chris and crossed the lounge. His favourite recliner had been taken by the scowling Detective Bana who stared at the On Circuit timer on the E-Wall and then glanced at Zee. The Lieutenant had strategically placed himself at the far end of the sofa recliner leaving Chris little option but to sit on the sofa sandwiched between him and the Detective.

Zee drifted toward the kitchen with his eyes on Chris. 

“I need your identification before we begin,” said Detective Bana with a gritty undercurrent. He held out his hand expectantly toward Chris.

Chris looked around for his flex card. He pointed at the Vid-Caller on the table and the grim Detective immediately picked it up. Digging out a Info-Pad from inside his jacket he slotted Chris flex card into the top.

“Can you confirm your name please?” Detective Bana asked staring at the surface of the Info-Pad.

“Chris Pine.”

“And your address?”

“Apartment 19, High Tower number 8,” said Chris and glanced at Zee.

Detective Bana put Chris’ flex card back on the coffee table and pulled something out of his pocket Chris couldn’t quite see properly. “I need you to give a micro blood sample. We need a record of the Tab’s you’ve taken in the last 48 hours. Just to check whether you’re under the influence of hallucinogens that may otherwise compromise the information you give. You understand of course, it’s just procedure,” he said.

Chris fixed a smile and held out his hand. Detective Bana’s hand was enormous and when he engulfed Chris’ hand his grip was hard. He stabbed the pen like device into the palm of Chris hand, slotted the device into the top of the Info-Pad and scowled at the screen for several seconds. 

Chris rubbed his thumb over the small dot of blood on his palm, tried not to squirm on the recliner and wished he could drop a Tab of Oblivion.

“I’m going to ask you a couple questions. Please speak clearly,” said Detective Bana. He put the Info-Pad on the table. “Can you confirm you were in Café Monsieur on the afternoon of the 2nd of this month?”

“Yes I can, I was,” said Chris.

“And you were present in the café when an incident occurred involving a woman who apparently fell through the roof of the café?” asked Detective Bana.

“Yes, yes I was,” said Chris and glanced at Zee hovering near the kitchen doorway.

“Can you give any indication where you were in the café when the incident occurred?” asked the Detective. 

“I was going home,” said Chris. “I was gonna get in the Locator, well I er.. was walking toward the Locator and I was gonna go home.”

The Detective looked over his shoulder briefly toward Zee and then scowled back at Chris. “Then what happened?” he asked.

“Well, er, she fell through the roof and—“

“Did you see her fall?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Chris. “I just heard a loud noise and there—“

“So you never actually saw her fall?” 

Chris tried to release breath trapped in his chest. “No I didn’t. There was just a loud noise behind me and lots of glass and I turned round and she was, well she was, y’know.”

The Detective pushed the Info-Pad nearer Chris. “Try and speak clearly Mr Pine. Why were you at the café that day?”

“Don’t answer that,” said Zee, striding across the lounge. “You don’t have to answer these questions Chris.”

“It’s okay, I don’t have anything to hide,” said Chris and noticed the glare from the Detective in Zee’s direction. “It’s fine really.”

Zee edged around the back of Chris’ favourite recliner out of line of sight of the Detective. “Are you sure. You don’t have to. They can’t—“

The announce tone on the Locator pinged softly and Chris rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Er… can you get that for me please, that, that’ll be Georgio,” he said and threw a look to the Locator. 

Zee chewed the inside of his cheek and glanced ferally down upon the back of the Detective’s head. “No problem,” he said. 

Georgio appeared in the Locator with arms full of paper bags and Chris’ lounge filled with the big man’s laugh. 

Chris smiled and waved and exchanged banter and nervously rubbed the back of his neck as Georgio disappeared into the kitchen with Zee. Under the heavy scowl of Detective Bana, Chris sensed heat crawling between his shoulder blades. 

“We were going to have dinner,” said Chris lamely. The Detective barely nodded. 

Georgio emerged from the kitchen a little subdued and waved briefly at Chris as he stepped into the Locator. “I made you the special,” he said quickly with a wink and as Chris offered a weak thank you, Georgio disappeared as the Locator hummed into life.

Chris took a deep breath as silence settled over his apartment and glanced toward the kitchen doorway as Zee appeared chewing a cracker. 

“Shall we try that again?” asked the Detective. “Why were you at the café that day?”

Chris cleared his throat. “I was having a coffee.” He glanced at the red haired Lieutenant. It appeared the man’s expression hadn’t changed since he’d sat down. He stared directly at Chris without blinking. 

“Is that all, Mr Pine?” asked Detective Bana. He leant forward, rested his elbows on his knees and threaded his fingers.

Chris leaned back. “Yeah that’s all.” 

“You went to the café that day to drink coffee.”

“Yeah.”

“On your own?”

“Yeah. Well no. I mean, kinda.” Chris shifted and fiddled with his clothing for a Tab box that was not there.

Detective Bana’s scowl deepened. “So which is it? Were you on your own or not?”

“Well, I went there on my own but when I arrived I went to sit with some people,” said Chris and glanced across the lounge to the kitchen doorway. Zee was no where to be seen. 

“Who were they?” asked Detective Banner.

“Er..I don’t really know them that well,” said Chris.

The Detective stared at Chris for several seconds. “You went to sit with people you don’t know?” he asked.

“Well I kinda know them, some of them, well just one actually.” Chris cringed. “I don’t- I didn’t know, well I don’t know and didn’t know them very well. I…er.. just know the one guy, sort of.”

“And what’s his name?”

“The Cho,” said Chris.

The Detective appeared chew something and stared at Chris. “So you went to the café and sat with The Cho and other people you don’t know.”

Chris’ head began to ache. “Yeah.” 

The Detective glanced toward the Lieutenant who produced and Info-Pad and handed it across. Detective Bana studied it for several seconds. “Mr Pine, do you know anyone by the name of Anton Yelchin?” he asked.

Chris glanced across the lounge to Zee who stood in the kitchen doorway. When Chris looked back to Detective Bana he was staring straight at him. Chris felt his cheeks warm. “Er.. kinda. I mean I don’t know his last name,” he said.

The Detective scowled at Chris. “And do you know someone by the name of Zoe Salanda?” he asked.

Chris swallowed. “No. I mean, I might. I mean I don’t know her but there was a woman sat at the table called Zoe,” he said.

“And what about a man called Rud Barnes?” the Detective asked.

“No,” said Chris. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Alec Duchovich?”

Chris shook his head. “No. No idea.”

“Lyndon Heskey?”

Chris glanced briefly between the Detective and the Lieutenant. “No,” he said. “Never heard of him either.”

Detective Bana handed the Info-Pad back to the Lieutenant and returned to scrutinizing Chris. “How would you describe your relationship with The Cho?”

Chris shifted on the recliner and glanced at Zee who took a step into the lounge. “I don’t really know him. He’s just someone who hangs around a lot,” he said. “I mean, almost everyone knows The Cho in High Towers. Or rather, he seems to know everyone in High Towers. He owns several casinos. I think.”

“Do you gamble Mr Pine?” asked the Detective. “Are you a man that likes to take risks?”

_Place your bets, Black or Red._

“No I don’t. Well sometimes I will if, say like, there’s stuff at a party or something.” Chris cringed at the way his words sounded. “Sorry, I mean, I don’t go to casinos, it’s not my idea of a good time.”

“Where do you go for a good time, Mr Pine?”

Images flashed quickly through Chris’ head; a woman with yellow hair on the Vid-Call message, a white room with a bed covered in blood, someone’s laughing face loomed briefly and a blood spot on a white marble hallway floor caused Chris’ vision to tunnel. 

“Do you have difficulty understanding the question Mr Pine?”

Chris blinked and tried to focus. “No, I mean, what’s this got to do with the er.. that woman?” he asked.

Detective Bana scowled at Chris. “Just answer the question Mr Pine.”

Chris glanced across the lounge. Zee had moved closer to stand behind the Detective and whilst he chewed quietly on a cracker, glared across at the Lieutenant sat on the sofa beside Chris. 

“I just er..hang out,” said Chris.

“Mr Pine I’m getting the impression you’re trying to be deliberately evasive,” said Detective Bana. His voice seemed to have dropped several octaves. “Are you trying to be deliberately evasive and not answer my questions Mr Pine?”

_You’re not trying to hide something are you?_

Chris’ bladder began to protest. “No, I’m not, I’m answering your questions. I just don’t see like how what I do in my private life has anything to do with a woman who throws herself off an apartment’s terrace. I only went to the café for a coffee,” he said.

“Why do you say she threw herself off an apartment terrace Mr Pine?” Detective Bana asked.

Chris glanced over his shoulder at the window. “Well it’s obvious. She couldn’t have come from anywhere else,” he said.

“For a man who states he never saw the incident occur you sound pretty certain about the facts Mr Pine,” said the Detective. “In fact, that’s the only thing you do seem certain about Mr Pine. I find that very strange, don’t you?”

Chris clamped down on his bladder and squinted at the Detective. “No. I mean, it just seems obvious, what happened. Like what she did,” he said.

Detective Bana appeared to be chewing something again as he stared at Chris. “You appear a little uncomfortable Mr Pine.”

“I really need to pee,” said Chris. 

Several silent seconds passed and Detective Bana studied Chris. “We just have a few more questions. The incident that occurred that day, did you know the woman Mr Pine?”

Chris shook his head and dared not open his mouth.

“Have you ever seen the woman at the café before Mr Pine?” Detective Bana asked. “Perhaps sat at a table, or with a group of people that you don’t know.”

_You’re so rad._

Chris tried to swallow and fought an overwhelming need to shut his eyes. “No,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah I’m sure.”

Detective Bana stared at Chris. “You don’t mind if we take a look around your apartment do you?” he asked. 

“Absolutely not,” said Zee and loomed behind the Detective. “Not without a court order. Not without a warrant. You know better than to ask that.”

Adrenaline leaped through Chris.

“I’m sure Mr Pine can answer for himself,” said Detective Bana barely glancing past his shoulder. 

Zee glared at the Detective and glanced at Chris. “He’s answered your questions.”

Chris suddenly could not get enough air into his lungs and the discussion around him faded into the background as the sound of his own blood pounded in his ears. 

“I just have a few more questions Mr Pine and then we’re done,” said the Detective. “Where were you last night?”

“He was with me,” said Zee and crossed the lounge to stand behind Chris.

Detective Banner scowled at Zee. “All night?”

“Yes all night,” said Zee.

“You’re prepared to give a signed statement about that?” said the Detective with a smile. 

“Absolutely,” said Zee coolly. “With legal counsel present if or when formal statements are required.”

Chris wiped his damp hands on his knees and hoped the sound of his heart hammering in his chest could not be heard. 

Detective Bana appeared to chew something. “Well thank you very much for that offer, Mr…Sorry I didn’t get your name.”

“I didn’t give it,” said Zee and rested a hand on Chris’ shoulder. 

An uncomfortable silence seemed to last an eternity as Zee and the Detective exchanged visual daggers. 

“Alright. Thank you for your co-operation, Mr Pine.” said the Detective. He closed the Info-Pad on the table and pocketed the device in his suit. “We may have some more questions at a later date. You’ll hear from us if we do.” He stood and was joined by the Lieutenant who flanked him. 

Chris looked up at the Detective as he towered over him. “Alright,” he managed to say.

“Have a good evening Mr Pine,” said Detective Bana and looked Zee up and down. “Enjoy your dinner.” 

The Detective turned away and made his way slowly across the lounge accompanied by the red haired Lieutenant. Stepping into the Locator he punched in address and offered a final scowl at Zee before vanishing as the Locator hummed into life. 

“Asshole,” breathed Zee staring at the empty Locator and squeezed Chris’ shoulder. “Christopher?”

Chris lurched out of the recliner and staggered across the lounge. “Just gimme a minute,” he said and fell through the bedroom door into the bathroom. After hastily emptying his bladder he grabbed his Tab box off the floor and dropped several Calmers as he sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. 

Zee drifted across the lounge and stood watching Chris through the bedroom door. He told himself again Chris was a User and as his temper simmered down he berated himself for jumping reflexively to Chris’ defence. Drifting into the kitchen he opened the lid of a carton and sipped quietly at cooling chicken noodle soup. He was lost in contemplation staring into the remains of the soup when Chris finally appeared in the kitchen door. 

“Hey,” said Zee and caught the look of fatigue that had returned to blue eyes even though Chris smiled. 

“Hey, sorry about that, I needed er.. some er.. time,” said Chris. He crossed to the kitchen’s centre counter surveying the cartons of food and pulled chopsticks out of their paper wrappers. 

“That’s understandable,” said Zee and watched Chris push chopsticks into a carton to listlessly pinch at noodles. “I apologise for my behaviour. I shouldn’t have involved myself.”

“No, no, no don’t. If you hadn’t stepped in I er.. I don’t know.. I er..” Chris pushed the carton aside. “Look you really shouldn’t have done, not, not that I’m er.. grateful but er.. you shouldn’t have said you were with me yesterday,” he said. 

“It probably wasn’t the best idea on reflection,” said Zee and set the soup carton down on the counter. “But that Detective was being a deliberate asshole.”

Having lost his appetite Chris stared at the kitchen counter. “Yeah well that’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left the café that day and then this wouldn’t have happened,” he said. The image of a woman with yellow hair hovered on the edge of his consciousness.

“Regardless of what you did, he was being an asshole, Christopher,” said Zee and chewed aggressively at a cracker. 

“I lied,” said Chris. 

Zee swallowed awkwardly as a sharp piece of cracker dug into his throat. “Well technically I did. If you’re worried about that, and you shouldn’t worry because all I’ll say if it comes to it that I was mistaken and I wasn’t with you last night. In light of the fact he shouldn’t have even been in your apartment asking those types of questions I don’t think it’s going to be much of an issue. He was being an asshole and he knew it. Without a formal statement signed by you anything you say isn’t admissible under---“

“No, no, I lied, I lied about the woman,” said Chris and sighed heavily. “When the Detective asked me, if I knew her, I lied. I did know her. At least I think I did. Oh, god I don’t know for sure.”

Zee chewed slowly on a cracker. “Well if you’re not sure you can only say no and that’s what you said, so, don’t worry about it,” he said but the look on Chris’ face said otherwise. “Christopher?”

“Look I er… I think I .. I’m not even sure but, the night before I went to the cafe I dropped Red. I don’t remember anything about that night but I must’ve gone to some party or something because I left myself a Vid-Call message and I think, I’m not sure, but I think the dead woman from the café is the same woman in the Vid-Call message,” said Chris. “She had this really yellow hair and, the woman at the café had the same, really yellow hair. I’m sure it was her but I don’t know who she was. I’m not even sure if she was a friend of someone I know, I haven’t had chance to speak to him about her. I haven’t even watched the message again to be sure. I guess I just hoped it would go away and it did for a while because the longer time went on the less I thought about it. And then, y’know, you came here and er.. well.” Chris pushed at a carton on the kitchen counter. 

Zee slowly chewed on a cracker. “It’s just a Vid-Call message Christopher. And coffee at a café is just coffee at a café,” he said. “You’re not responsible for what happened to that woman.”

Chris let out a slow breath. “Yeah I guess you’re right, I er.. it was er.. I dunno, I er.. I don’t handle stress too good so I er.. kinda, I dunno, panic sometimes,” he said. 

“Well it helps if you haven’t got some asshole Detective treating you like a criminal,” said Zee and drained his soup. 

Chris glanced up and for a moment thought the furtive Zee who had originally arrived at his apartment had returned. “You really didn’t like him did you?”

“What can I say, Police and Trash don’t mix well Christopher,” said Zee and pulled open a carton. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and awkwardly lifted noodles into his mouth. 

“Yeah, I kinda got that impression,” said Chris and handed Zee fork. 

Zee licked his lips and set aside his chopsticks. “He was an asshole,” he said flatly, and forked a large pile of noodles into his mouth. 

Chris was forced to smile. “Yeah I kinda got that impression too,” he said and with a renewed sense of relief, and appetite, pulled a loaded wooden skewer out of carton and chewed at the spicy meat. “And he spoiled our dinner.”

“Like I said, asshole,” said Zee and sidled around kitchen counter towards Chris. He slipped a tentative hand under the edge of Chris’ paper shirt and leaned his body close.

Chris licked his lips tingling from chilli spice. “And he interrupted me when I was busy,” he said and tilted his head toward Zee who nosed gently near his ear.

“Asshole,” said Zee quietly. 

Despite Zee’s enticements, the experience with the Detective had dampened Chris’ enthusiasm. Plagued by thoughts over the Vid-Call message Chris tried to recapture the calm he had gained earlier, but as Zee continued teasing touches, disturbing images of blood soaked beds and broken café furniture resurfaced and flashed through his head. The confines of the apartment seemed to press on him, and the reflections of Zee’s increasingly nude state on every surface in the kitchen only amplified a sense of claustrophobia 

“I can’t do this,” said Chris breaking a kiss and trailed his fingers across Zee’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I er.. I really want to but I can’t, I er.. sorry.”

Zee ran his hands down Chris’ naked chest and across an enticing blonde trail. “You don’t have to apologise Christopher. I’m not going to take it personally,” he said and told himself again that Chris was a User. 

Chris rested his head against Zee’s and closed his eyes. “Can we just hang out?” he asked. “Maybe just, watch a film or something?”

“Sure. Anything you want,” said Zee and felt Chris’ small nod.

The remainder of the evening passed off in silence in front of the E-Wall. Zee touched Chris lightly on the leg waking him when less than five minutes were left to run on the Reserve. 

“Christopher, I’m sorry to wake you but I’m going to have to go soon,” said Zee and slipped on his jacket. 

Chris rubbed his eyes and sat up in his recliner. “Yeah sure, sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that,” he said. 

“I think you needed to sleep Christopher,” said Zee and knelt down next to the recliner. “Thank you for the food, again, and your company.”

“That’s okay, maybe next time, well, things will be better,” said Chris. “I should sort out the er.. café thing once and for all and er… that’ll be that. No more, dinner interruptions.” 

“No problem. Try and get some rest Christopher,” said Zee and glanced over his shoulder the sound of a beep and a red one minute timer flicked on the wall. “I’ve got to go.”

Chris scrambled out of the recliner and ran across the lounge. “Wait, wait,” he said and dived into his bedroom.

“Christopher, you know I can’t,” said Zee and stepped into the Locator. 

Chris bolted out his bedroom racing to Locator as the final seconds ticked away on the wall. “Here I want you to have this,” he said and put the small brown piece of Mars rock in Zee’s hand. 

“Christopher, no, I can’t take this,” said Zee as the Locator hummed into life. 

“Yes you can. I’ll see you soon,” said Chris and swiftly leaned to kiss Zee stifling another objection. 

Zee disappeared a second later and Chris immediately placed another Reserve. It would be four days before he could see Zee again. Exhausted, he went to bed wrapping himself in Zee’s blanket and staring at the night sky, fell asleep with the window blinds open.


	6. Chapter 6

Chris watched the play of light behind closed eyes. The Private Tab he had dropped was enough to shut out the minimal conversation across Café Monsieur and he enjoyed the solace of genuine peace. 

Having awoken early, and surprisingly refreshed, he lingered over faint erotic residues and the few scattered images of intense detail from the previous night’s encounter with Zee. Any concerns over the outcome from the Detective’s visitation were, to his surprise, negligible at most, and he suspected part of the reason he no longer harboured unrealistic guilt over the incident at the café was directly due to Zee’s unquestioning defensive behaviour on his behalf. Where an empty space had existed inside him, a small sense of empowerment had been planted and with new resolve, he set out to confront his first potential hurdle of the day; breakfast at Café Monsieur. 

Opening his eyes against the glare of early morning sun, Chris ate the final piece of a breakfast bagel and finished his coffee. Glancing across the virtually empty café, the memory of a broken form across one of the tables flashed briefly through his mind and a shadow above made him look up. A maintenance team walked over the glass dome in suction shoes as a hover car cleaned a section of glass in the geodesic structure. Any other day Chris would have found the sight of people appearing to defy gravity exciting.  
He looked away and fumbled for his Tab box. Dropping a Calmer, he focused on the slowly opening petals of a flower and thought again about Zee. The combination of Tab and tantalising tattoo had the desired effect. 

Chris threaded his way through empty tables as he crossed the café and as he stepped into the Locator, someone sat at the café bar turned to look in his direction. Adrenaline jolted through Chris as he recognised Anton, and by the expression on the young man’s face, recognition was reciprocal. A second later the café vanished and Chris’ apartment appeared in front of him and the moment was past. 

Chris debated returning to the café but for what reason he was unsure. His association with Anton was circumstantial at best, and the idea of walking up to the hot tempered young man and introducing himself seemed foolhardy. He was even more unsure of what he would say in such an event. Abandoning the idea he opened the lounge window blinds and kicked off his loafers as he took up residence in his favourite recliner. He turned on the E-Wall and dropping another Calmer, prepared to confront the issue which had plagued him for over a week. 

Entertainment channels flicked off as the Vid-Call message header filled the wall. Chris’ thumb hovered over the Delete button on the Vid-Caller and he scratched at his beard aware of hesitation forcing him to appease a personal dilemma. He selected to play the Vid-Call message one last time. 

The wall burst into life filling with faces and the mystery High Tower’s apartment. The loud music playing in the background mixing with shouted conversations and laughter seemed strange and the grinning faces which loomed in and out of focus more unreal. 

Then she appeared, yellow hair and a fashionable black slash across her eyes. “You’re so rad,” she shrieked. 

Chris paused the play back and stared at the wall. The ghost like quality frozen in front of him did not nothing to allay or confirm his suspicions it was the same woman who had fallen through the roof of the café. In the static image, her glassy eyes seemed as dead as those which had looked up at the empty hole in the dome, and the open mouth equally as silent caught in a freakish shape. Chris’ attention drifted over every detail of the woman’s face searching for some form of recognition to resurrect memory, but the Red had successfully eradicated everything. 

Glancing at the blurred background, Chris picked his way over the expensive décor in the apartment. Something jarred inside him as his attention settled on a plush red sofa recliner and he resumed the message play back. Over pumping music someone laughed hysterically and as the woman with yellow hair moved out of the way. Chris glimpsed an imitation animal skin rug on the floor and two further red sofa recliners crammed with people. Out of view a gruff voice shouted ‘shut the fuck up’. 

Chris instantly paused the play back and rewound. 

Playing the scene again he focused on a voice as it shouted ‘shut the fuck up’ and paused the message again. Suspicion grew and Chris repeatedly rewound and played the message over and over until ‘shut the fuck up’ was all he could hear. He paused the play back once more and stared at the image of the mystery apartment which filled the wall. His imagination painted in the burly form of Karl Urban just out of view to the left of the image. It was enough to confirm the identity of the apartment as the anonymously owned meeting place which Karl had taken him to two nights previously. Recognition settled heavily in Chris’ stomach and he pressed play on the Vid-Caller. 

Chris barely knew the clean shaven, flushed face belonging to his other self as it gurned into the Vid-Caller accompanied by more hysterical laughter.

“On Circuit,” his other self slurred and pulled open its shirt exposing writing across its chest. The image blurred as his other self pressed its chest closer to the Vid-Caller and as he staggered backwards and fell over out of view, Chris paused the message again. His attention drifted over peoples’ faces fixed in a tableau of hysterical laughter around the apartment. The activity blurred out of shot on the far side of the room and Chris resumed playing the message. His other face appeared again as he was helped up by several people including the woman with yellow hair. 

Chris ignored the action immediately in the foreground as his other self was shoved out of the way numerous times and people stuck out their tongues or talked randomly into the Vid-Caller. The activity slightly out of focus in the background had captured his attention and as his other self wagged a finger at someone unseen and loomed close to the Vid-Caller blocking his view, Chris waited patiently with detached emotion as his other self lectured to the Vid-Caller. 

“Listen to me. Get it. It’s really good. You gotta get it. You must get it. Look.” 

Chris paused the message as the room en masse finally came into full focus as his other self pointed over its shoulder and stepped out of the way. Flicking through the scene frame by frame Chris watched anticipation on strangers faces as they hung over recliners and huddled in groups. Expressions change slowly into hysterical laughter as someone out of focus appeared in the apartment’s Locator. Chris paused the images on the wall as ice cut through the centre of him. On the far right hand side of the room amidst a group of laughing people, a hand held a distinctive ebony cigarette holder. Chris peered at the distorted reflections on the mirrored wall behind and at the familiar oily smile belonging to The Cho. 

Chris’ heart hammered once in his chest and he rewound the message to the beginning. Playing the message slowly frame by frame he fixed on the action in the background as it blurred in and out of focus. A man in a black suit moved through the room and leaned across the back of the sofa recliner where The Cho and his group sat laughing. Chris paused the play back as the man’s face appeared reflected in the mirrored wall behind and recognition struck again. 

_He’s the Rad Man._

Chris tugged at his beard. Getting up from the recliner, he crossed to wall and peered at the reflection in the mirror behind the group. Half a woman’s face peeped out from beside The Cho’s and the honey chocolate skin on an exposed shoulder sent a spike of recognition through Chris. 

“E-Wall, select Vid-Call message, edit Vid-Call message. Save fix point, and gimme a copy holophoto of this right here,” said Chris. There was a beep as the wall flicked and a small box containing a duplicate image appeared at the bottom of the paused Vid-Call message. 

Chris rewound the message to the beginning and played it again. Frames slowly flicked past and he picked through each of the faces in the room one by one. Pausing the play back at the point as his other self grinned and pointed past its shoulder to the room, he sat back in his recliner and contemplated the implications of the scene in front of him. 

“You fucking idiot,” he said. “Why did you have to go and drop Red?” 

Chris spent the remainder of day and well into early evening pacing around his apartment. Occasionally he glared at the image of his other self on the E-Wall and played the Vid-Call message over and over until every detail became ingrained in his memory. The sound of Karl’s voice in the background took on a taunting quality and Chris began to wonder if the Karl’s brash instruction was directed at him. 

In a fit of pique, Chris grabbed his flex card and stepped into the Locator, punching in the address taking him to his apartment’s private car port. As he climbed into his air car and hit the auto control, his only intention was to find Karl and confront him about the events on the Vid-Call message. 

As his air car spiralled down the side of High Towers and joined a feeder lane, Chris punched off the auto control accelerating down toward the mid quarter of the city. Banking sharply, a proximity alarm sounded as air cars in the busy lane ahead swerved aside. Chris yelled colourful language and gripped the steering wheel hard as he lost control of the air car and safety protocols and emergency auto control kicked in. Full of bubbling frustration, Chris pounded his fist against the padded door panel and swore under his breath as his air car slowed to a steady cruise mode, and unable to do more than be a passenger, he stared out of the window at the closely packed buildings passing by and the swiftly changing adverts plastered over every available surface. Thousands of faces filled the horizon as an On Circuit advert ran and Chris’ temper was further inflamed as everything suddenly was bathed scarlet by Red adverts. 

Chris left his car at an automated parking port and pushed his way unceremoniously through crowds on the arcade as he his way to The Barney Club. The club was busy and his enquiry with the unhelpful bar tender brought a simmering temper to the surface and the event degenerated into argument. Chris left the club frustrated and angry, and drifted through the arcades searching various hot spots of activity full of half naked women and loud music. Karl was no where to be found. 

Chris returned to the automated parking port after hours of futile searching and slipping into his air car’s quiet confines, he punched the homing beacon on the auto control. His temper had ebbed to the point of weariness and as his air car lifted off the landing strip he pressed his face to the window and looked down upon the smog barrier far below. A need to touch and smell Zee overwhelmed him as the air car slowly spiralled upwards and as the smog barrier disappeared out of view, a terrible sense of foreboding crept into replace the self confidence he had experienced earlier in the day. 

The mid quarter of the city disappeared as the air car followed an automated route back to Chris’ apartment, and as High Towers came into view as thin prickles of light against the night sky, Chris switched off the auto control and guided his air car along the same circuitous route Karl had taken. Gliding silently through a feeder lane designated solely for High Towers, Chris followed his memory as he steered his air car in a slow spiral upwards. The empty apartment Karl had taken him to came into view and Chris looked down on the vacant landing pad and desolate garden terraces. Landing his air car Chris braced himself for confrontation and tried to enter the apartment. No one seemed to be home, and after waiting on the freezing cold landing pad for several minutes with no reply to his repeated attempts, he climbed back into his air car and took off. 

Dejected and with little a lack of coherent thought as emotions swamped him, Chris returned to his apartment and headed straight to Café Monsieur. Anton was no where to be found in the bustling evening crowd and Chris sat at the bar and nursed a small coffee until only he and a few late night lonely stragglers were left. He returned to his apartment, dropped Oblivion and fell into bed seeking the scent of Zee as he curled himself around the blanket. 

For the next three days Chris tormented himself by prowling the mid quarter of the city searching for Karl and returned to the vacant apartment in High Towers several times but found no-one. He made numerous enquiries with bar staff at Café Monseiur as to the whereabouts of Anton, yet was met with a wall of polite professional avoidance. 

Frustrated and exhausted, Chris holed himself up in his apartment with only the E-Wall’s entertainment to distract him. Even the blanket which he had taken to carrying around with him had lost its faint scent of Zee, and Chris counted the minutes until he was able to touch the body which filled his imagination. Throughout, the contents of Vid-Call message plagued him and images of grossly laughing people pushed their way into Chris’ head until the sinuous twists and turns of Zee’s body were completely blocked out. As usual, he retired to bed in the early hours of the morning with a sleeping Tab.

Turning fitfully on his bed, Chris struggled in a reoccurring dream. He yelled at his other self as he stumbled across a room full of laughing people and tried in vain to find a way out. He woke with a chill sweat to the darkness of his bedroom and pulled himself to the edge of the bed. 

“Lights,” he said, and as low lights bloomed around the bedroom, a terrible sense of foreboding settled heavily upon him again. Padding into the lounge he turned on the E-Wall and selected Zee’s On Circuit timer. Six hours remained until Zee’s next arrival. 

Chris fetched the blanket from his bed and sat in his favourite recliner watching minutes on the timer slowly tick away. Dream residue crept into the edge of his consciousness mingling with distorted memories of the Vid-Call message. The combination left Chris distinctly uncomfortable as if something hovered just out of the reach of his understanding and even in the silence of his apartment, he felt as though people were laughing at him. Driven by paranoia, Chris played the Vid-Call message. 

The E-wall burst into life filling with a familiar scene full of faces Chris didn’t know. Loud music accompanied grinning faces which seemed to taunt him, sticking out their tongues and hysterical laughter in the background mocked him. The woman appeared as she always did shrieking and Karl’s disembodied voice growled. His other self appeared on cue and pulled open its shirt. 

“On Circuit,” his other self slurred, and fell out of view.

Chris watched people in the background laugh hysterically and he rewound the message several times watching his other self repeatedly fall over. He paused the play back and stared at a small group of people sat on the right hand side of the room.

“What are you people laughing at?” he asked quietly, but the laughing faces offered no answer. 

Chris resumed the play back and watched his other self helped up by several people including the woman with yellow hair. He paused the play back again and studied the laughing people crammed onto a sofa recliner in the background. The remainder of people in the room appeared to be oblivious to his other self and stared toward the Locator. 

“You’re not laughing at me,” said Chris and pulled the blanket around him. “You’re not even looking at me.”

Chris allowed the message play back to continue and watched his other self loom close to the Vid-Caller again. 

“Listen to me,” said his other self. “Get it. It’s really good. You gotta get it. You must get it. Look.” 

Chris paused the play back as his other self pointed past its shoulder. Something about the image jarred. He rewound the message and flicked through the action frame by frame watching the laughing people in the background and as his other self blocked the action for a brief moment before pointing across its shoulder. Slowly the action in the room came into full view as his other self moved gradually to the right hand side and vanished out of shot leaving a pointing finger hovering in mid air pointing to something out of view on the left hand side of the room. 

“You’re not pointing at the Locator. What are you pointing at?” asked Chris quietly. His other self moved back into shot as he resumed playing the message and the group of people sat on one recliner in the far right of the image laughed hysterically and pointed to something unseen across the room. 

“Get it,” said his other self sporting a fresh black stripe across its eyes. “You’re gonna love it. You can have anything you want.”

Chris paused the play back. “Get what? E-Wall, select Vid-Call message, edit Vid-Call message. Save fix point, and gimme a copy holophoto,” he said. A small beep accompanied the image which appeared at the bottom of the wall. “Show me image.”

The wall flicked as the Vid-Call message was relegated to the bottom of the wall and replaced by the copy holophoto. 

Chris sat back in his recliner and pulled the blanket around him. “E-Wall, I wanna edit this, gimme a grid,” he said and hash lines appeared superimposed over the holophoto. “Select 136 to 647 and zoom in by 50 percent.”

The wall flicked, the right hand side of the image enlarging gradually. Faces of the laughing people sat on the red sofa recliner filled the wall and blurred as the detail was lost. 

“Stop. Enhance and track right 45 degrees,” said Chris and watched the wall flick gradually until all that was left were indistinct blurs of cream against black on the mirrored walls of the apartment. 

Chris narrowed his eyes. “Enhance again please,” he said and there was a small beep as the image sharpened. “Gimme another grid. Select 474 to 866. Zoom out, bring to the centre please and then enhance.”

The image flicked again slowly increasing in detail bringing more of the surrounding apartment into view and the wall filled with indistinct pale stripes against a black background. As the image sharpened Chris saw the definitive shape of a person’s hand amidst the strange pale stripes. 

“Zoom out 26 percent, and then enhance,” said Chris quietly, and the image increased in detail blurring once more until nearly all of the original right hand side of the apartment was in view. As the image sharpened, the faces of laughing people sat on the sofa recliner in the foreground blurred and the originally distorted reflections on the mirrored wall behind them sharpened into focus revealing a line of smudged forms standing against the dark backdrop of the apartment’s window blinds. 

Chris sat forward in the recliner and stared at the smudged images and in particular, the sliver of a body on the far right hand side. “Gimme a grid, select 133 to 487. Track right. Zoom in 60 percent, bring to centre. Enlarge,” he said. 

The wall flicked and dark, indistinct smudge replaced the previous image. 

“Enhance,” said Chris, and the smudge became a blur. “Enhance again. Sharpen this up.”

The wall flicked and a grainy black curl upon a pale background filled Chris’ vision. 

“Fix perspective and zoom out,” whispered Chris and watched the wall flick steadily. The black curl upon the pale background merged into the edge of a throat, jaw line covered with stubble and a face turned to the side vanished off the edge of the wall out of shot. As the image continued to enlarge, a distinctive tattoo curled down a familiar neck and Chris watched as the length of a naked flank filled the wall. 

“Freeze. Gimme a copy holophoto right here,” breathed Chris. There was a beep and a small copy appeared at the bottom of the wall. “Continue zoom out.”

The wall beeped again continuing its enlargement until the original image of the apartment was presented, laughing faces of people blurred in the foreground, the background of the image sharpened and a clear line of naked forms standing in a row in front of screened windows. 

Chris put his head in his trembling hands and tried to breathe. 

_Get it. You’re gonna love it._

Chris lurched out of the recliner bolting to the bathroom and dry retched until he vomited the scant contents of his stomach. Shaking uncontrollably he eventually managed to wash his face. 

The remainder of the night into the grey light of early morning passed in a haze of Oblivion and by late afternoon having only managed to digest half a Vitamin smoothie, Chris sat in his favourite recliner and watched the seconds count down towards Zee’s arrival with detached isolation. 

The Locator hummed and Zee appeared dressed as usual in scrappy skinny black jeans and faded t-shirt, his worn cloth jacket slung casually over his shoulder as he stepped into the lounge. He smiled and instantly walked over to the recliner, leaning down to nose affectionately into Chris’ hair. 

“Hello you,” said Zee and knelt down. He searched blue eyes which turned on him and a doubt stabbed painfully in the centre of his chest. “Is everything alright Christopher?”

Chris slowly extracted himself from under Zee’s touch and stood up. “Yeah everything’s fine, absolutely fine,” he said and smiled as Zee rose slowly. 

“Are you sure?” asked Zee carefully. The chill of Chris’ smile matched the ice in the blue eyes. “You don’t seem to be, fine. Actually you seem, I don’t know, odd.”

“Odd? No, no I’m not odd, I’m fine,” said Chris and strolled away from the recliner to look out over the garden terraces. 

A sharp sting of caution put Zee instantly on guard and he glanced quickly around the lounge. Moving carefully to the centre of the room, he looked through the kitchen door and toward the bedroom. “I’m getting the impression something is obviously wrong. You’re behaving strangely Christopher,” he said and turned quickly as Chris spun round at the window. The smile spread across Chris’ face inspired warning. 

“Am I? Why would there be anything wrong, after all, you’re here. I mean, it’s not like I need to worry about anything while you’re here, do I?” Chris clenched his jaw.

“Christopher, I don’t do guessing games, if---“

“No you don’t, you made that abundantly clear when you first came here,” interrupted Chris and noticed Zee stiffen. “But you do, you do like playing them don’t you? In fact, you are incredibly good at playing games I think. Tell me, has it been fun?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Zee, and as Chris stepped away from the window, took a step backwards keeping his distance. 

“Oh you’re really good. The act doesn’t drop for one moment does it,” said Chris attempting to close the distance between him and Zee. “You’re a real professional. I bet you enjoyed every minute of it didn’t you and had a really good laugh when you left here. Are they paying you well?”

Zee took another step backwards and sidled towards the recliners. “Christopher. I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one pays me to come here other than you. The On Circuit is direct payment, you know that.”

“Well excuse me if I have problem believing you Zee. You see, it’s such a coincidence that, here I am all beat up and sat in my apartment and bang, wow, there you are, standing in my Locator,” said Chris and grinned. 

Zee’s chest tightened as Chris laughed hollowly. “That’s right. You selected a Random circuit. I’d never seen you before I---“

“LIAR!” Chris clamped down on a flare of anger and took a shaky breath. 

In uncomfortable silence, Zee told himself Chris was a User and watched Chris’ fists slowly unclench. “I don’t care what you think of me. I doesn’t matter what you think of me. But I’m not lying to you,” he said quietly. 

Chris could barely speak. “Yes you are,” he said. “E-Wall. Select Vid-Call message holophoto archive. Show image 236.”

Zee glanced to the E-Wall as a grainy image of a black curl upon a pale background replaced the On Circuit timer. 

Chris carefully watched the confusion in Zee’s face. “Look familiar?” he asked.

Zee shook his head and glanced back to Chris. The expression in blue eyes was accusatory and the colour in Chris’ cheeks had darkened. “I’ve no idea what that is. Christopher what is---“

“No. I guess my perspective is slightly different from the one you have. Show image 208,” interrupted Chris. 

The wall flicked and the black curl reduced to another gritty image, a tattoo curling its way down a pale background merging into the edge of a throat and distinctive jaw line covered with stubble. 

“Look familiar now?” asked Chris quietly and swallowed emotion crawling up his throat as Zee’s expression changed to one of recognition. 

“Where did you get this, Christopher?” Zee asked softly staring at the image on the wall. 

Chris’ chest tightened. “You don’t know?”

Zee helplessly shook his head. “No I don’t. I swear. Stop this, stop playing games with me,” he said. 

“Show image 199,” said Chris and covered his mouth with a hand as an image appeared on the wall. 

Zee took several steps toward the wall his attention fixed on the blurred faces in the foreground and then on the line of naked men standing behind. Something unpleasant twisted in his stomach.

“That’s you isn’t it? On the far right, just out of the shot. You can’t see much but it is you isn’t it?” asked Chris. 

Admission was difficult and Zee looked over his shoulder. The expression on Chris’ face brought physical pain. “Christopher?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew me?” asked Chris. 

The desperation in Chris’ voice clouded Zee’s thinking. “I don’t. I don’t know you- I mean I know you now, but I’ve never seen you before I came here. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. 

“ _Don’t lie to me._ ”

“I’m not lying to you. Christopher please.” Zee urgently took a step and Chris spun away to face the window. 

“Play Vid-Call message,” said Chris and screwed his fingers tightly into his hair.

The silence in Chris’ apartment was swallowed as faces filled the wall and loud music mixed with shouted conversations and laughter.

Grinning faces in front of Zee triggered memories of laughter which mingled with the incoherence in front of him. Vague recollections grew as a woman with yellow hair filled the wall and as she shrieked, Zee glanced over his shoulder at Chris stood at the window. 

“Christopher?”

“Hey,” said the image of Chris on the wall, drawing Zee’s attention. “On Circuit.” 

Zee slithered into Chris’ recliner as he watched the events of the Vid-Call message unfold and painful memories of the evening jarred with the alternative perspective in front of him.

“Listen to me. Get it. It’s really good. You gotta get it. You must get it. Look.” 

Zee closed his eyes at the sound of hysterical laughter and a chorus of shouted ‘No, no, no’s’. 

“Get it. You’re gonna love it. You can have anything you want.”

Silence settled over the lounge as the Vid-Call message finished and the wall returned to the On Circuit timer. 

Chris focused on the garden terraces attempting to ignore a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach and locked his knees against trembling legs. “If you have anything to say to me, you’d better say it. I’d rather you just told me the truth, that they put you up to this, that they told you to come here and er.. do what you’ve done. I don’t blame you, because I know that er.. you’re On Circuit and er.. I guess they thought it was funny to get you to come here and er---“

“Christopher, please, I don’t know what you’re talking about, you have to believe me,” said Zee turning around in the recliner. 

Chris balled his fists at his sides. “How can you say that? You were there, you must have seen me. I was pointing right at you,” he said. 

Zee hung his head. “I honestly don’t remember,” he said.

Chris spun away from the window. “Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not a liar! Jesus Christ.” Zee leaped out of the recliner and threw his jacket at the E-Wall. “I don’t fucking remember okay. Do you know what it’s like to be told to take your clothes off and to stand in front of room full of people to be laughed at Christopher?”

“No I don’t,” snapped Chris as Zee began to pace. 

“It’s humiliating okay, humiliating,” said Zee. “Do you think I want to remember something like that? What it feels like to be treated like an animal? To be told to bend over or lift my cock and show my ass? Do you have any idea what something like that feels like?”

“No I don’t, but you know---“

“No you don’t, you have no fucking idea what that feels like, Christopher, you have no idea what I have to do every time someone selects me or puts a Reserve on me okay. Nothing. You know nothing. So don’t stand there an accuse me of being a liar because I’m not. I’m a fucking prostitute for fucks sake but I’m not a fucking liar. I can’t believe you—“ Zee threw his hands in the air and pivoted around out from under Chris’ intense stare. Grabbing his jacket off the floor he stalked to the Locator and punched at the panel. “Fuck you. Let me out of here.”

“You know The Cho,” shouted Chris pursuing Zee across the lounge. “He put you up to this, I know he did. He’s paying you to come here and fuck around with me so you can go back and tell him everything and---“

“Get the fuck away from me,” hissed Zee and danced away from the Locator as Chris drew close. “You are paranoid Christopher. I don’t know who you’re talking about. You brought me here yourself on a Reserve you made, no one else did.”

“The first time you came here, the first time, it was after that night,” countered Chris pointing at the E-Wall. “You came here.”

Zee gesticulated wildly and backed away from Chris. “For god sake listen to yourself. You put in a Random selection Christopher, no-one sends someone to you that’s not how On Circuit works.”

“Well excuse me but I find it a bit fucking coincidental---“

“So it’s coincidence---“

“Yeah it fucking seems that way doesn’t it, that when I sit on the fucking Vid-Caller the person who walks out of my Locator is everything I want, and happens to have been standing naked at a fucking apartment party the night before and who I send myself a Vid-Call message about,” shouted Chris.

Zee dragged his hands through his hair. “Jesus Christ. It’s a coincidence, Christopher.”

Chris shook his head and pointed at the E-Wall. “No, no it’s not. I mean, I mean did you see it, you did see it didn’t you? You watched the Vid-Call message didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

“Yes, Christopher,” said Zee pacing around the lounge keeping his distance from Chris. 

“I was pointing right at you Zee, you saw that, and The Cho and – E-Wall show image 156 - and his group of fuckwits he hangs round with just happens to be there too. And that woman, who died, from the café, with the yellow hair. And then, and then, and, and they were there too at the café when it happened, before it happened, and they laughed at me, like they knew something. And they did know something because they, they were going to send you to me, here, in my apartment, because you were there, and they knew I liked you, and they, they decided what to do. And you agreed. And then you were going to go and tell them what you did, with me.”

“No, no, no, no—“

“Yes, yes, yes—“

“NO. Christopher. Nothing was decided, I haven’t agreed anything with anyone. I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Zee spun in the middle of the lounge floor. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Chris stalked towards Zee. “Look at the photo,” he snapped. “Tell me you don’t know him.”

Zee glanced briefly at the wall as he backed away from Chris towards the Locator. “I don’t know what you’re---“

“Fucking look at the photo”, yelled Chris. 

Zee dragged his eyes away from Chris’ flushed face and stared at the image of laughing faces and a room of vaguely remembered shame. “I don’t know, who am I looking at?” he asked.

Chris stabbed an angry finger at the wall. “That, that guy, right there, the one in the background, the oriental guy smoking the cigarette. Him. Tell me you don’t know him.” The expression on Zee’s face forced Chris’ breath to catch. 

“I don’t know what his name his,” said Zee. “All I know is---“

“You know him, you fucking know him, you know The Cho,” gasped Chris. 

Zee scraped his fingers through his hair. “Yes I know him alright, but I don’t know his name---“

“Yes you do---“ squeaked Chris.

“No Christopher. I don’t. On Circuit is anonymous,” said Zee, pacing like a trapped animal. 

“But you know him---“

“Yes I know him,” shouted Zee.

“How do you know him?” demanded Chris as Zee paced past heading toward the Locator. Zee spun around with his jaw clenched defiantly as he shook his head and Chris prowled closer. “Goddamn it, tell me how you know him.”

“His name is Red, and I—“

“Red?”

“Yes Red.” Zee floundered and circled the recliners.

“Tell me,” yelled Chris.

“He’s my fucking pimp okay.” Zee pulled his hair as Chris’ face froze. Silence settled heavily over the lounge and Zee hugged his arms protectively around his chest. 

Chris tried to breath and reached out, resting the tips of his fingers on the back of his favourite recliner to steady himself. “What?” 

Zee twisted on his toes, turning around and around until he faced Chris again. “He paid for the Locator I use,” he said and Chris’ expression changed to incomprehension. “He takes a cut from every On Circuit I make. I mean come on Christopher, how else do you think a piece of Trash like me can afford a Locator in the first place, huh? Do you think everyone has access to the kind of credit you people do? Do you know how much one of those things costs?” Zee wrapped his arms over his head and looked helplessly at Chris.

Chris slowly shook his head. “He paid you to come here.” 

“No Christopher. Listen to me. On Circuit is anonymous---“

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth. It’s a coincidence. I’m On Circuit, lots of people- I go to lots of rich peoples’ apartments. I’m bound to turn up on your Random search because of that, I’ve got---“

Chris lunged, balling his fists into Zee’s t-shirt. “Don’t lie to me.”

Zee twisted in Chris’ grip, pushing hard as he was pulled around and under the sudden weight against him, grunted as he staggered back and hit the wall of the Locator. He yelled in Chris’ face as it loomed close. “I’m not lying. Red put me on a Top Circuit. I’ve got a four star rating.” Bracing his arms against Chris’ chest he pushed hard. 

“How could you do this to me? I liked you. You were going to be my friend. I wanted you. You made me trust you and it was all a game,” gasped Chris and Zee’s face blurred in front of him as his eyes began to sting. 

“It wasn’t a game,” shouted Zee and struggled under Chris’ grip. 

Chris broke his hold staggering back as his own emotions tried to strangle him. “You’re a liar. You lied to me,” he said. 

Zee’s temper inflamed and he flailed wildly, spitting words at Chris. “Fine. Fine. Have it, just take it, have it your way if you want. I’m a liar. There I said it, are you happy now? After all, what did you expect Christopher? For fuck’s sake, what did you think was going to happen if you used On Circuit? Huh?”

Chris shook his head. The image on the wall seemed to laugh at him and the sudden granite in Zee’s face pushed him further away. 

“You’re so naïve, Christopher. Did you actually think it was going to be like the promo says, that what you want is waiting for you at the touch of a button and is going to step out of your Locator and say ‘Hi, let’s hang out, oh lets have a really good time together’?”

“You did!” 

“That’s because by the time you pressed the button, everyone you know in High Towers had probably already fucked me by then,” spat Zee and staggered as Chris’ fist landed heavily on his jaw.

Chris spun away, bellowing incoherently as pain exploded in his knuckles. “Get out, get out,” he shouted, and slammed a hand against the Locator panel. “Now.”

Stunned, Zee pressed himself against the wall and clutched the side of his face as the echo of Chris’ blow throbbed. In the silence, he retrieved his jacket off the floor and edged past Chris stepping into the Locator and numbly pressed an address into the panel. 

Chris hung against the side of the Locator and stared at the floor. “I never want to see you again, don’t ever fucking come here again,” he breathed, and strangled a sob as he pushed himself away from the Locator as it hummed into life.

“Christopher I—“

Chris spun around. “I _never_ treated you like a prostitute,” he shouted. 

Zee rubbed the side of his face as tears burned in his eyes. “You just did,” he said and vanished. 

Chris exploded, yelling incoherently at the top of his voice and lashed out at the first available object. His recliner spun across the floor as he threw his full weight against it, toppling it into the sofa recliner and he swore as he cracked his shins on the coffee table. Picking up the unfortunate object by one of its legs, he rounded on the laughing image plastered across the wall in front of him and hurled the table. The loud crack as the table hit the wall and splintered the liquid crystal glass accompanied sparks of electricity, and Chris hefted the table again wielding it over his head as his anger took hold and smashed it against the distorted smiling face of The Cho. His repeated pounding sent sparks flying and as the table disintegrated in his hands, he grabbed the Vid-Caller off the floor and hurled it at the wall. The small device shattered, ricocheting past his head and his apartment filled with raucous laughter and music as the Vid-Call message played again. 

Chris bellowed frustration as his face loomed across the fractured surface of E-wall. Unable to stop the play back, Chris crumpled to his knees, curling into a ball as he put his hands over his ears. The faint scent of Zee left on his clothes opened up a yawning hole inside him bringing with it uncontrollable tears that would not stop.

_I’m not a liar._

Chris retreated to his bathroom, tearing off his paper clothing and stuffing them into the disposer. He showered, washing away the scent of Zee and dripping wet, slithered into his bedroom and grabbed the blanket off his bed. Stalking into the lounge he opened the window and naked, stepped out onto the garden terraces. Shivering as much as he shook with emotion, he stepped down to the lower terraces and in a final fit of temper, threw the blanket out over the edge of the parapet. He watched the wind take the remains of Zee’s presence away as the blanket twisted and turned until it disappeared out of sight. 

“Fuck you,” said Chris and wiped away treacherous tears that spilled over as a new wave of emptiness swallowed him whole. 

_It wasn’t a game._

Chris retreated into his apartment. A bottle of Oblivion awaited him and he embraced it, dropping Tab after Tab and washed them down with Synthahol. Alone, he passed out on the floor of his bedroom holding the Moon rock in hand and hugging his father’s jacket that held the faint remnants of Zee’s scent upon it.


	7. Chapter 7

It was the first day of a new month, and day fourteen of a post Zee argument Tab and Synthahol binge for Chris. 

Chris fell out of the door of an air taxi onto a boulevard strip and swore under his breath. Slapping away helping hands from a few laughing bystanders he staggered through the portico and out into the bustling arcade. 

New Year Theme Night at The Barney Club was in full swing and a long queue of chattering people outside pointed occasionally at the new Tab adverts that bathed the arcade bright green. 

Chris pushed his way to the front of the queue and brandished his flex card. His over paid membership gave him immediate access to the sweating interior of the club and he waded his way through the crowd inside. Dropping his fifth Bold of the evening he grabbed at one of the male dancers on the podium, spilling into the close packed people around him as he pulled the weight of the dancer’s body against him. His behaviour earned him hard slaps from several people including the dancer who immediately climbed back onto the podium and hurled abuse. 

Chris humourlessly laughed off his failure and staggered away to the bar. The evening disappeared into a Synthahol mixed fugue on top of heavy doses of Fizz, Pink, Rocket, Push, Smacker, Bold, Crack, Whiteout and Velvet Kiss. By the time Chris collapsed in a recliner in an upstairs lounge, he barely recognised Karl’s face when it loomed over him with a wide grin. 

“It’s the man,” laughed Karl and slapped Chris across the face. “Come back to us fly boy. There you go. Jesus mate, you’re fucked.”

Chris mumbled something incoherent and pushed Karl’s hand away. “Fuck off.”

Karl laughed and slapped Chris across the face again. “Wakey, wakey rise and shine,” he said and dug into his Tab box. “I know what you need, here get this down you.” He shoved several Clear into Chris’ mouth and poured the remains of his beer into Chris’ face. 

Chris coughed, choking on beer and tasted something minty on his tongue. The fuzz of his inebriation turned into hammering at his temples and he clutched his head as the Clear Tabs dropped in quick succession. “Karl, you fucking bastard.”

Karl grappled Chris in a head lock and pulled him upright in the recliner. “Whaaay, you remembered my name. Come on mate fucking snap up,” he said and tugged at Chris’ thick beard. 

Chris grunted. “Fucker, fuck off.” He swiped a punch which Karl dodged easily.

“That’s the spirit,” laughed Karl and sat back on the recliner next to Chris. “You look like shit mate. When was the last time you took a shower?”

Chris grabbed a beer bottles on the table and drained the dregs out of several. “Fuck off, it’s none of your business,” he said and took the beer which Karl offered him.

“What’s the matter, the dispenser not working in your apartment neither? You look like you’ve been living in those casuals for a week mate,” said Karl and waved across the room as a gaggle of women tumbled through the door. 

“None of your fucking business either,” said Chris and squinted at the colourful array of body paint that crossed in front of him and draped itself around Karl. 

“Well it’s good to see you mate, I was getting worried about you. I haven’t seen you in a while,” said Karl and slapped his hand on a bare ass under a frilly paper skirt. 

“Yeah well, I’ve been busy,” said Chris and pushed a woman away. 

“Me too, I’ve been flat out with this gig I’m on,” said Karl and dug into his Tab box. 

Chris glanced down at the back of Karl’s hands and at the patterning of bruises and scabs. “Yeah it looks like you have,” he said, smiling as Karl grinned broadly. 

“What have you been doing mate?” asked Karl and pulled a woman to the side to whisper in her ear. 

“Redecorating my apartment,” said Chris and drained the beer in his bottle. 

“Oh right – you want another one of those?” asked Karl and at Chris’ nod pushed the woman off his knee sending her away with his order. “I’ll have to come and look some time, I’ve never seen your apartment.”

“Apartment 19, High Tower 8, drop in any time,” said Chris. “Like I fucking care.”

“You been hanging out with that piece of Random fluff?” asked Karl. “What’s the matter? They fucked you up?”

“Yeah they fucked me up big time,” said Chris lolling in the recliner. “Like every other fucker that I know, Karl.”

“Fucking bitch, I hope you slapped her one and told her to fuck off,” said Karl and waved a handful of beers in his direction as the woman returned with her arms full.

“Him. Him. It was he,” said Chris defiantly. “But you already know I prefer men don’t you?”

Karl handed Chris a beer and shrugged. “Yeah well, sort of, when you tried to touch me a couple of times I knew it was a bit more than friendly. Each to their own mate. As long as you don’t try and fuck me up the ass,” he said and took a long pull on his beer as he levelled a heavy stare at Chris. 

Chris snorted and raised his bottle in salute. “Well fuck you too, Karl,” he said and was covered in beer as Karl sprayed a laugh across the room. 

“You’re alright mate,” laughed Karl. “So what did you do then, you told the Random to fuck off after you finished with him yeah?”

“Yeah I told him to fuck off, in not so many words. I punched him actually,” said Chris and something pressed painfully in the centre of his chest as Karl laughed heartily. 

“You’re the man,” said Karl and clinked his beer bottle against Chris’. 

“Yeah I’m the man,” said Chris. “I’m the fucking man alright. I trashed my apartment after I threw him out; put my lounge coffee table through my E-wall.” 

Karl rolled around in hysterics in his recliner and pointed helplessly at Chris. “He really got to you. I remember, you were really up on him the last time I saw you; moping like a groom with a runaway bride.”

“Yeah that was me,” said Chris and swallowed a bitter mouthful of beer. 

“I told you Trash were only good enough for the disposer once you’re done mate. You’re supposed to throw them in, not try to dispose of your apartment,” said Karl. 

“Yeah you did, but you know what, I wish I hadn’t,” said Chris surveying the laughing people around the room. “I wish he was here right now and I hadn’t been so fucked up and angry and gone and deleted his Reserve.” 

“Nah come on mate, forget it,” said Karl, and threw a punch into Chris’ shoulder. “They’re fucking Trash. You can get yourself another one.” 

“I shouldn’t have hit him.” Chris stared across Karl’s shoulder at the gaggle of woman. “Chauffeuring tonight?”

Karl glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah man, I’ve got to deliver this lot in half an hour. Wanna come for some action?”

Chris gritted regret between his teeth. “Yeah I’ll come for some action,” he said. “I might wanna have a word with Black myself actually.”

“Whaaayy, the man is up for some action,” laughed Karl. “I’ll see what I can do, mate. It’s a freaky busy night, there’s a load on tonight. Special party going on, there’s a huge spin on the table. Everyone’s going to be there.”

“Then that sounds like my kinda party,” said Chris and slammed his bottle against Karl’s. “To the party, and the action, and the Random fucking On Circuits.”

Karl howled wolf loud over the noise in the room and pulled one of the women sat nearby into his arms. Chris looked away from the full show on display between the woman’s legs as Karl’s hand disappeared under skirt frills. 

Karl’s group tumbled out of The Barney Club with Chris in tow and when they stepped out onto a packed boulevard strip, were bundled into a waiting limousine. Karl took the wheel and Chris sat morosely in the seat next to him as the limousine cruised through the mid quarter of the city towards High Towers. 

“You won’t find him down there,” said Karl. 

Chris pulled his face away from the window. “You ever been down below the smog barrier Karl?” he asked. 

“Nah mate, I’m a little fish but I’m not a bottom feeder.” Karl swiftly threw a look at Chris. “I didn’t mean it like that mate.”

“I didn’t take it like that,” said Chris and looked back out of the window. The smog barrier disappeared as the limousine cruised higher and Chris took to looking at expensive apartments as they began to appear. 

Karl offered his Tab box and Chris helped himself to another Clear to ease the pounding in his head. 

“Busy, busy, busy,” said Karl and pointed at the apartment as it came into view. “How the fuck am I going land this baby?” He pushed against the horn and several air cars hovering outside the apartment shifted aside. 

“I’m with you, right?” asked Chris as Karl landed the limousine. 

“Yeah man stick with me, we’re off to the big house tonight,” said Karl and dived out of the door. 

Inside the apartment, Chris tailed Karl through closely packed people, most of whom were women. The laughter from the sofa recliners was strangely reminiscent of the Vid-Call message and Chris instinctively searched the edge of the room near the shuttered windows for a line of naked men. 

“Chris, mate, we’re up,” said Karl grabbing Chris’ shoulder. 

“Already?” Chris apologised as he trod on someone’s foot. “We’ve only just arrived.”

“I told you it was a busy night,” said Karl pushing his way into the Locator amidst a gaggle of women. “Get the fuck in mate.”

The noisy apartment disappeared replaced by an even noisier grand marble hallway with a large wide central staircase covered in opulent red carpet. People dressed in expensive lounge suits and cocktail dresses chattered loudly over their drinks throughout the hallway and Chris’s ears picked out the sound of roulette tables spinning over the vibrating music and shouts of laughter coming from several rooms. 

“Jesus,” breathed Chris and Karl’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. 

“Like I said, big party,” said Karl and pushed Chris out of the Locator. “Come on follow me, we’re taking this lot straight upstairs.” 

At the foot of the wide staircase sentinels dressed in red suits stopped Karl’s group and Chris signed in with his flex card. The bald headed man Chris had seen on his visit to the other house offered a slight nod of acknowledgement and Chris offered one in return. 

“Karl what am I supposed to do?” asked Chris as they topped the staircase. “Do you want me to hang out like before?” He scanned the packed hallway below. 

“Nah mate, it’s a different set up in this house. Different action. Come on, you stick to me like a tick on bullocks brass mate,” said Karl and ushered his group into a large bedroom. 

Chris shut the door and avoided sitting in the white silk chair directly behind it. 

“Alright lovelies you know the drill, get you’re fucking kit off.” Karl clapped his hands and picked an Info-Pad up off the bed side table.

Chris averted his gaze as the room dissolved into flesh covered with carefully applied body paint. 

“Right listen up lovelies,” said Karl. “Candy, Pink, Lass, Birdy, Pixie you’re Black tonight, the rest of you are Red. When the boys come make sure you remember, I don’t wanna fuck up like last time.”

Chris’ ears pricked up and he swallowed as his heart thudded once. He dug into his pocket for his Tab box and dropped a Calmer. “Karl, you got any more Clear, my head is giving me grief here,” said Chris calmly. 

“Yeah mate. Shouldn’t have pushed it earlier eh?” asked Karl and handed over his Tab box. 

“Yeah something like that,” said Chris. He helped himself to several of Karl’s Clear Tabs adding them to his own Tab box. “But you know me, I’m the man.”

Karl slapped Chris on the shoulder. “Yeah mate. Are you going to be ready for some action then?” 

“Yeah absolutely. I’m really up for it,” said Chris as he ground the Tab between his teeth. “I’m looking forward to speaking to Red when I see him too.”

Karl’s brows raised. “You know him?”

“Yeah I know him, why wouldn’t I know him. Everyone knows Red right?” Chris pulled Karl close. “I er.. have some personal business to discuss with him.”

Realisation crept across Karl’s face and he laughed, digging Chris in the ribs. “I get it, of course you would with him having guys on his table and you being, well you know, a faggot and everything. No offence mate.” he said.

“None taken,” said Chris and gripped Karl hard across the back of the neck. “And the word is gay, Karl, or homosexual, but that’s a bit of mouthful isn’t it.”

Karl laughed and grappled Chris in a headlock which was cut short as the door opened. 

“Send down a Black,” said the man who poked his head round the door. 

Karl clapped his hands and the chatter in the room ceased. “Pixie you’re up,” said Karl and a woman covered in yellow body paint slouched across the room. 

The door closed and the chatter returned to its normal volume as Karl turned back to Chris. “So are you going to bet then or take a piece of action for yourself?” asked Karl.

Chris studied the exuberance on Karl’s face carefully. “It depends. I’ll be up for some action if I like the look of it,” he said. 

“You’re the man,” said Karl and immediately hushed himself. “I’ll keep quiet about it, don’t worry. But make sure you leave some for me.”

“I’ll make sure of that, but I need to talk to Red first,” said Chris carefully. 

“Oh yeah mate, no problem. It’s not like you can just walk up and get in on the action without the nod first, I get it. But if he knows you it’ll be alright. I’ll make sure none of the other guys know you’re a punter having a piece of action for yourself. Red is always careful about that,” said Karl quietly. 

“Thanks Karl I appreciate that.” Chris slapped a friendly hand on Karl’s shoulder. “Like you said, Red is a careful guy, I wouldn’t want to mess things up for him.”

Karl nodded sagely. “Yeah mate, after all it’s my gig on the line too right?”

“What do mean?” asked Chris. 

“Y’know, he gave me this gig. I’d be fucked otherwise with the amount of credits I owe at the casino. I’d be in the disposer myself, or worse, On Circuit having my own ass ploughed.” Karl laughed coarsely. 

Chris forced a laugh and dug for his Tab box. “Yeah that’d be er..”

“A bummer.” Karl barked a laugh. “No offence mate, but I’m a giver not a taker when it comes to the action.”

Chris dropped a Clear and Calmer. “Yeah. So when are you up? I wanna watch,” he said. 

“Soon mate, when this lot get moved on I’m up,” said Karl and grinned. “We’ll see how many credit’s Red can make. It’s not long before the bet breaks when I’m on the action.”

“I look forward to seeing that,” said Chris as there was another knock at the door. 

“Turning over fast tonight,” said Karl and smiled at Chris. 

Chris took a back seat at the evening progressed and bedroom slowly emptied of women and chatter. Karl began to drop Smackers by the time the last of the women left and when there was another knock at the door, Karl was bouncing around the room building up a sweat. 

A bald head poked around the door and glanced briefly at Chris. 

“Charlie, the man, how goes?” asked Karl and shook his head as a finger pointed in Chris’ direction. “He’s fine. He knows Red.”

Charlie stepped into the bedroom closing the door quietly and tossed a Red leather mask onto the bed. “You’re up on the next rotation, should be about five minutes,” he said. 

“Fucking yeah,” said Karl and dragged off his shirt.

“Red says let the bet ride for 20 or if you can push it 30 before you break it,” said Charlie as Karl pulled on the mask. 

Karl adjusted the mask. “You’re joking,” he said as his lips pressed through a hole. “What’s he playing at?”

“There’s a big group in tonight, fresh blood high rollers. Red wants to get them hooked so take your time,” said Charlie and helped Karl draw the strings at the back of the mask. 

“Alright I’ll do my best, but not if Red gives me a weak prick who breaks after three strokes,” said Karl and flexed his shoulders. “I don’t want to dry piss out of my shoes again like last time either.”

“Who knows. Trash isn’t what it used to be,” said Charlie and opened the bedroom door. 

“We’re up mate, come on,” said Karl and beckoned to Chris. 

Chris heaved himself off the dressing table and locked his knees as his legs wobbled. “Great,” he said and forced a smile as he followed Karl out of the room.

Chris maintained a tail on Karl as they pushed their way through the crowded hallway downstairs. Shouts from gambling tables grew louder and as Chris passed close to one of the many rooms and he glimpsed bodies covered in luminous spray paint dotted amongst the throng. Chris continued to swim through people dressed in designer paper lounge suits and cocktail dresses keeping his eye on Karl’s distinctive red mask. As they passed through a room packed with roulette tables and approached closed double doors at the end of the room, Chris heard shouts and applause coming from the other side of the doors which sounded distinctly different to anything in the other gambling rooms.

Karl’s grinning mouth peeked out of the mask as he turned to look over his shoulder and Chris fixed a smile on his face as he listened to the ominous chanting coming from behind the doors ahead. 

Chris surrendered to being frisked by sentinels dressed in red suits at the door and when they dropped a plush rope barrier allowing Karl and Charlie to pass, Chris was permitted entry as well. 

Chris followed Karl skirting a standing packed crowd. A collective count began, and Chris winced reflexively at the sound of something hard striking something soft and yielding. As the count reached five the crowd erupted into thunderous applause and Chris caught his first sight of a two naked bodies, one smeared in black body paint and the other in red, tied to flogging frames in the centre of the room. 

“I’ve got to go mate,” said Karl loudly leaning close to Chris’ ear. 

Chris swallowed nausea. “No problem, I’ll catch you later,” he said and leaned in as Karl pulled him close. 

“Get yourself down the front mate, you’ll get a better view. And remember, put your bets on me, I’m the best,” bellowed Karl and was escorted off by Charlie through a side door. 

Chris hovered at the back of the crowd and glimpsed a familiar face from the café dressed in a black suit rising a head above everyone in the room. The nasal pitch to the voice confirmed Chris’ suspicions. 

“Well look who it isn’t,” said Chris quietly to himself. “Mr Nosejob.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please,” said Mr Nosejob. The crowd hushed to a conservative chatter. “The next table will be a house limit of 1 million credits, have your stakes ready please.”

A mild chorus of disgruntled sighs washed over the room and the crowd moved like a flock of birds. 

Chris pressed himself against the wall as the room emptied considerably as people flowed through the double doors on the far side. As a gap opened up in front of him he sighted a podium with two large gilded chairs and a red and black spin wheel numbered 1 to 10. Inching his way forward, Chris moved amongst a few chairs in front of plush rope barriers which demarked a circle in the centre of the room and he stifled a reflexive gag as he dragged his eyes away from blood being cleaned off the floor under two empty cross frames. 

At tap at his shoulder brought Chris spinning around to confront a large bouncer dressed in a black paper lounge suit. 

“Excuse me, Sir,” said the bouncer looking Chris up and down. “The stake on this table is for 1 million credits. Perhaps a table in another room would be, more suitable for your credit limit.”

Chris self consciously adjusted the front of casual paper shirt and glanced around the room at other expensive suits. “No I’m in the right room,” he said.

The man looked Chris over. “You don’t appear to have any betting chips with you, Mr…?”

_On Circuit is anonymous, Christopher._

Chris took a brazen stance and locked his knees as his legs trembled. “Well no one’s offered to get me any yet, I’m still waiting for them, if that’s any of your business. And you know better than to ask me my name,” he said. His desperate volley appeared to have the desired effect and the bouncer blinked. 

“Well perhaps you’d like to come with me and---“

“I’m a special friend of Red’s,” said Chris trying to keep a quaver out of his voice. “Speak to him if you have a problem with me.”

The bouncer straightened the cuffs of his suit. “Red has many friends Sir, may I ask which one you might be.”

Chris’ brain blanked. “Gold,” he said, and dug his flex card out of his pocket. “I’m Gold. Now how long do I have to wait before I get my betting chips?”

A round of applause went up in the room as the bouncer looked Chris over again. “I’ll see what I can do, Sir,” he said and hesitated. “How many was that?”

Chris plucked a number out of thin air as he handed over his flex card. “A hundred and fifty,” he breathed. 

Astonishment crossed the bouncer’s face. “Did you say a hundred and fifty, Sir?” he asked. 

“Yeah, yeah I did,” said Chris and took a breath to steady himself as expectant faced people pushed close to the rope barrier. “And hurry up. I don’t want to miss out on the action.”

The bouncer vanished through a steadily deepening crowd. Chris shakily looked around for something to lean on and grabbed a nearby vacant chair out from under the slowly lowering backside of a woman in a red cocktail dress. Sitting heavily as his knees finally buckled, Chris wiped the sweat of his hands against his pants and ignored the gasps of indignity beside him as the woman collapsed ungracefully to the floor.

“Excuse me, my wife was going to—“

“Fuck off,” Chris said across his shoulder and pulled the chair close to the rope barrier as a tumultuous round of applause broke across the room. 

Chris gritted his teeth as The Cho appeared dressed in a scarlet lounge suit. Zoe hung off his arm dressed in a black cocktail dress sporting a black feather headdress that fluttered lightly as she and The Cho stepped up onto the podium. The crowd hushed as The Cho and Zoe sat in the gilded chairs either side of the spin wheel and the man with a nasal pitch to his voice took the floor. 

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Welcome again. We have a special table prepared for you. As I said before, the stake limit is 1 million credits,” said Mr Nosejob. “Before our walkers take your stakes, however, here is the table this evening for your consideration.”

A round of polite applause went up and Chris leaned forward in his chair as the crowd parted. Under escort of black suited bouncers a naked man smeared in black body paint was led into the centre of the room. Spreading the man across the frame directly in front of Zoe the bouncers lashed the man by his hands and feet, and as they left, a man stripped to the waist and wearing a black leather hood strode into the centre of the floor. Exuberant applause went up from the crowd as the black hood brandished a heavy flogger. 

Chris clapped listlessly and eyed The Cho on the podium who appeared preoccupied with chatting with Zoe. 

As red suited bouncers escorted a man smeared in red body paint into the centre of the floor, Chris felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around in his chair. The bouncer from earlier had returned. 

“Thanks,” said Chris, and accepted his flex card and gold edged betting chips embossed with his monika. 

“Thank you, Sir. If I may offer some advice, Red is a good bet tonight,” said the bouncer. 

“I appreciate that,” said Chris and offered an icy smile as the bouncer dissolved back into the crowd. 

Chris thumbed the edge of one of the betting chips and pocketed his flex card. He glanced back into the centre of the room at the two men tied to the frames and jumped as a crescendo of applause accompanied the entrance of a man stripped to the waist and wearing a red leather hood. Recognition stabbed through Chris as he watched the familiar bouncing walk of Karl and he reluctantly joined the applause as Karl aggressively brandished a flogger. 

Applause died as Mr Nosejob called for quiet. “As you’ll no doubt agree, our table tonight is excellent so please feel free to indulge yourselves, and The House of course, you know we love taking your credits,” he said and listless laughter rippled through the crowd. He clapped and red and black bunny girls appeared carrying bowls and drifted around the inside of the rope barriers. “Our walkers are ready to take your stakes, ladies and gentlemen, and then we shall begin.” 

The room filled with the sound of tinkling as betting chips were dropped into the bunny girls’ bowls. Chris absently tossed in two of his chips as he watched Karl bouncing around and glanced toward the podium as bunny girls tipped out their bowls forming a large pile of chips on the floor between The Cho and Zoe. 

“146 million is the table value for this evening ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr Nosejob and more applause went up around the room. 

Chris flicked betting chips through his fingers as he maintained a steady gaze on The Cho. The man’s oily smile had widened at the table value announcement and he wrapped his tongue salaciously around the end of his ebony cigarette holder. 

“And now to the main event,” announced Mr Nosejob and a collective air of anticipation settled over the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets, Black or Red.”

Chris reached for his Tab box and dropped a Reliever and Calmer. A bunny girl appeared in front of him holding a bowl split half red, half black and Chris tossed one of his betting chips on top of the pile in the red half of the bowl. The anticipation in the room pressed heavily as bunny girls deposited half of the contents of their bowls at Zoe’s feet and the other half in front of The Cho. 

As silence settled and the bunny girls flanked the podium, Mr Nosejob took position next to the spin wheel between The Cho and Zoe. “No more bets ladies and gentleman, no more bets,” he said, and with a final glance around the room, spun the wheel. 

Tension ratcheted through the crowd as the wheel clicked past its centre peg and Chris watched numbers blur until the wheel began to slow. An imminent hurrah grew as the wheel painfully clicked on and the crowd burst into a mixture of applause and disgruntlement as the wheel stopped. 

“Black 5,” announced Mr Nosejob. 

Zoe appeared to shift in her chair and disdainfully touched her legs as the chips at her feet were removed and added to the central pile on the podium. A spattering of laughter went up from the crowd. 

Chris dragged his eyes away from Zoe as the black hood offered a biter to the man tethered on the frame, shoving it between his teeth. Taking position and flexing his shoulders, the black hood swung hard and landed a resounding slap against bare legs with his flogger. Chris winced. The crowd chanted, counting each blow in steady succession and cheered at the count of five. 

“Place your bets, Black or Red,” shouted Mr Nosejob. 

Chris dropped another Reliever and glassy eyed, threw another betting chip into the red side of the bowl as it passed. The sound of the clicking wheel as it spun again brought a sweat out between his shoulder blades. 

“Red 4,” announced Mr Nosejob. 

Chris looked up. The same oily smile was plastered across The Cho’s face as Karl bounced enthusiastically around the floor of the room and chips on the floor in front of The Cho were added to the central pile on the podium. Zoe glanced across and smiled at The Cho as a collective ‘ooo’ went up from the crowd when he emphasised putting his hand against the side of his face. Karl strode around to stand in front of the red painted man tied to the frame and bracing his feet, landed powerful, backhanded slaps across the painted man’s face in quick succession. Chris stared at the floor as the crowd chanted for the count of four and broke into cheering.

“Place your bets, Black or Red,” announced Mr Nosejob. 

Chris mechanically threw one of his chips into the red side of bowl and glanced around the side of the bunny girl. Karl was shoving a rolled biter into the red painted man’s mouth and whispering something in his ear. As he pulled away, he landed a hard slap against the man’s face. Chris felt his stomach turn over as the red painted man’s head snapped to the side and a dead expression in dark eyes under heavy brows fixed on the middle distance.

“No more bets, ladies and gentlemen.”

The sound of the wheel clicking in the background faded as Chris leaned forward in his chair to peer across the room. A vaguely familiar hip bone protruded and under the smear of red body paint, the faint outline from a curling black tattoo ran over the edge of a slim thigh into the hollow of a buttock. 

“Zee,” whispered Chris.

“Red 7,” announced Mr Nosejob and the crowd erupted in enthusiastic cheering. 

Chris gripped the rope barrier in front of him and tried to make his legs take his weight. Laughter went up from the crowd as The Cho stood and presented his backside to Zoe as the chips at his feet were added to pile at the centre of the podium. Zoe laughed and swiped a slap across The Cho’s backside and hysterical laughter rippled around the room. The Cho waved to Karl who stood ready with a flogger and the count began. Chris watched in horror as Zee’s body went rigid and face contorted into agony as Karl landed punishing strokes. As the count reach four, Chris managed to get to his feet. The tension in Zee’s body ebbed as each powerful stroke from Karl’s flogger pushed him to exhaustion and his face screwed tight as he gripped the rolled biter between his teeth.

A tumultuous round of applause on the final count of seven was cut short as Zee spat out the biter and discontented murmuring from the crowd rippled around the room. The Cho rose carefully from his chair and stepped down off the podium amidst a few dissenting boos from the crowd and picked the biter up off the floor. Hushed anticipation settled over the crowd as he approached Zee and he smiled broadly as he offered up the biter. Tremoring on the frame Zee exchanged a dead eyed stare and hesitantly opened his mouth and bit down as The Cho pushed the biter back into his mouth. A roaring cheer went up from the crowd accompanied by applause and the The Cho condescendingly patted Zee on the face. 

Chris’ temper flared and he looked frantically around the room. 

Karl bounced and flexed his shoulders swiping the flogger through the air and as The Cho returned to the podium under sportsmanlike applause from Zoe, he glanced across the room and his attention settled on Chris. The oily smiled widened across The Cho’s face and he leant down to whisper in Zoe’s ear before taking up position in his gilded chair on the podium. 

“Place your bets, Black or Red,” chimed Mr Nosejob. 

Chris tossed a betting chip into the red section of a bowl as a bunny girl walked past and glared at the podium as Zoe surreptitiously glanced in his direction. 

“Yeah I’m standing right here you fucks,” said Chris under his breath. His heart hammered in his chest and he moved along the rope barrier attempting to put himself in Zee’s eyeline. 

“No more bets ladies and gentlemen,” announced Mr Nosejob. 

The ominous click of the wheel began, and Chris watched helplessly from behind the rope barrier as Zee’s eyes rose to watch the wheel. In a desperate attempt to gain Zee’s attention Chris coughed. 

“Chopsticks.”

Zee’s attention snapped away from the wheel to the crowd at the side of the room.  
Chris shook his head, silently pleading forgiveness as the dead expression in dark eyes flickered briefly with life and then died, turning back to the wheel. 

“Red 9,” shouted Mr Nosejob over a roar from the crowd. The Cho magnanimously waved his arms in a full circle and the crowd whooped with delight as Karl unleashed a ferocious haphazard attack on Zee with the flogger. 

Chris strangled a cry as Zee’s body twisted uncontrollably. Breaking through the rope barrier, Chris yelled over the chanted counts from the crowd and stumbled as he was set upon from behind. With his momentum carrying him forward, he lurched into the centre of the floor dragging bouncers on either arm and bellowed at the top of his voice. 

“KARL!” 

Karl faltered mid stroke as Chris landed heavily against the floor and the crowd dissolved into shouts of abuse. 

“Get the fuck off me,” snarled Chris and struggled against the weight of strong arms as he was pulled up off the floor. “Karl, don’t fucking touch him. Don’t you dare fucking touch him.”

Chris kicked out, writhing against his captors and as Zee’s agony contorted face came in view, adrenaline gave him strength and he broke free sliding across the floor to the podium. 

“Cho. Stop this. Now,” shouted Chris and hit floor again as he was grappled anew by a bouncer. He struggled in vain under the fresh grip and cried out as his arms were twisted tightly behind his back and his face was crushed into the floor. 

Silence settled over the room and Chris watched peoples’ feet moving beyond the rope barrier. Indistinct sound of movement around the room brought panic in Chris and he squirmed under the pinioned grip on his arms. A knee settled in the centre of his back and he cried out as painful pressure was applied to his kidney stilling him. 

Suddenly, The Cho’s face appeared upside-down beside Chris. “Why, it’s The Rad Man. Chris, what are doing? You’re spoiling the evening with your, shall we say, little display,” said The Cho. 

“Stop it. Stop it now. Don’t touch him,” Chris mumbled against the floor and gasped as the knee in his back applied more pressure. 

The Cho sighed and shook his head. “Get him up,” he said and vanished out of Chris’ line of sight. 

The room spun as Chris was hoisted upright and held roughly by two bouncers. 

“Get the fuck off me,” hissed Chris and struggled helplessly. 

“Chris, calm down,” said The Cho stepping in front of Chris. “You’re making a scene, and only making things worse for yourself. I swear, you’re as bad as Anton.”

Chris glanced past The Cho as Zoe stifled a snigger behind her hand. “He’s definitely The Rad Man,” said Zoe. 

“Quiet baby, The Rad Man’s upset,” said The Cho, and taking a long drag through his cigarette holder, smiled at Chris. “My men are going to escort you out, and make sure you leave. I’m going to forget about this because I’m a generous man. Is that understood?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Chris. 

“What?” laughed The Cho. “I just gave you an opportunity to walk away. You’re in no position to tell me what to do in my own House.”

“Yes I am,” said Chris. “This stops now. The guy, on the rack, in red, comes with me. I’m not leaving without him.”

The Cho’s brows rose speculatively. “What, with that?” he asked, pointing past Chris with his cigarette holder. “Are you talking about the piece of Trash?”

“He’s not a piece of Trash.” Chris shook with adrenaline and flexed against the vice like grip on his arms. 

The Cho shook his head slowly and looked over his shoulder toward Zoe sat on the podium. “Did you hear that baby?” he asked. 

Zoe threw her hands in the air and laughed. “He’s The Rad Man, like, what do you expect?” A hesitant laugh rippled through the crowd. 

The Cho sighed and turned back to Chris with an unpleasant smile. “I can’t help you. You see, what you ask for would be difficult. There’s a large stake riding on this table, 146 million, plus actually, and I have a reputation to uphold. Besides, if I let you take the Trash away, it would spoil the fun,” said The Cho. “I’m sorry, you can have the Trash back once we’re finished with it.”

The Cho’s smile slowly slid off his face as Chris began to laugh. 

“146 million. Is that all?” Chris asked and fixed a grin. “Is that all you’re concerned about? Name your price.”

The Cho faltered as a hush settled over the room. “Why Chris, whatever do you mean?” he asked. 

“Name. Your. Price,” said Chris. “I’ll cover the stake, right now actually if your dogs let me go. I’ve got the credits on me. Or you can check my pockets yourself if you want. It’s a win win for you.”

The Cho gritted his cigarette holder between his teeth. “You know better than that, Rad Man, the stake is less than half. I mean, look at all these lovely people. You can’t cover all of the credits that the House would make on this table. And besides, these people expect to have some fun. Are you going to spoil that too?”

Chris kept the smile on his face. “That’s right, you’ve got high rollers in tonight, fresh blood, so you’ve a reputation to keep. You were going to push the table to 20 wasn’t it, or 30? That’s a lot of credits,” he said. 

The Cho glanced nervously to the crowd at the side of the room. “Why Chris whatever are you talking about?” he asked. “I run a reputable establishment. There are no, arranged bets here.” 

“I’ll cover it,” said Chris. “I’ll cover your loss. After all, it’s only going to be, what, 1.2 billion at the most?”

“You don’t have that kind of credit,” laughed The Cho. 

“Try me,” breathed Chris. “1.2 billion credits for the red Trash on the table and he and I walk away.”

The Cho slowly chewed the end of his cigarette holder producing a cloud of smoke and glanced briefly at the crowd in the pensive silence. “Why Chris, you really are The Rad Man,” he said quietly. 

“You have no idea,” said Chris. “My flex card is in my shirt pocket. Take it. Check the credit yourself if you want.”

The Cho snapped his fingers. “Get me a pay unit,” he said, keeping his eyes on Chris. 

Chris smiled coldly. “I wouldn’t mind if you called your dogs off now,” he said. 

The Cho appeared to consider and nodded to the bouncers. “Let him go,” he said. 

Chris flexed his aching arms as they were released and as Mr Nosejob appeared and gave The Cho a pay unit, Chris handed over his flex card. The Cho’s brows raised as the transaction completed without a hitch. 

Chris took back his flex card when offered. “It’s time for me to leave now,” he said. 

The Cho snapped his fingers at bouncers. “Cut the red Trash down. Get another one out here immediately.” He smiled at Chris. “It’s a pleasure doing business with The Rad Man, we must do it again some time.”

“Don’t bet on it,” said Chris and with a final contemptuous glare at Zoe on the podium, turned his back on The Cho as the room erupted into disgruntled shouts. 

“Everything’s alright ladies and gentlemen,” shouted The Cho over jeers and catcalls. 

Chris forced himself to walk drawing on the new adrenaline rushing through his body. Zee hung on the frame apparently lifeless as bouncers cut away at the leather straps tethering his wrists and ankles, and Chris staggered forward catching Zee in his arms as he was finally released. 

“Chris. What the fuck?” Karl loomed between bouncers and was held back as he tried to grab Chris. “Tell me what the fuck is going on?” he yelled over the noise of the crowd. 

“Karl, help me,” said Chris as his hands slithered trying to find purchase on Zee’s body. 

“Is that the Random Trash you fucked?” shouted Karl. “Is that him? What the fuck have you done Chris?”

Chris looked down as his hand came away from Zee’s flank covered in blood. “Fuck off Karl,” he said, and slung one of Zee’s limp arms over a shoulder. 

Bouncers pushed Karl to the side as Chris staggered carrying Zee’s dead weight against him. 

“He’s a piece of fucking Trash,” yelled Karl.

Chris gritted his teeth and forged across the room on trembling legs pulling Zee close. Several people in the crowd shouted abuse and bouncers stepped ahead holding back a surge that pushed against the rope barrier. Stumbling as he reached the double doors at the end of the room, Chris hoisted Zee over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carried him through a sea of bouncers out into the roulette rooms beyond. Karl’s furious bellowing was muted as the doors shut on the room behind. 

“Can I help you there Sir,” came a voice at Chris’ side. The bouncer who had questioned him earlier pushed aside a few people and fell into a close escort beside Chris. 

“Nah, I’m good,” grunted Chris. “I just need to get the Locator. Actually, actually yeah, I need to sign out too I think.” 

“Follow me Sir,” said the bouncer and parted the gaggling crowd ahead. “Do you have your flex card on you, Sir?”

“Yeah yeah, it’s in my shirt pocket,” gasped Chris and swerved around a roulette table full of chattering people. The hallway beckoned ahead and he offered a silent prayer to anything his legs would hold out. 

As the bouncer pushed through the laughing drinking crowd in the hall he let out a piercing whistle and beckoned to several sentinels at the bottom of the grand staircase. Activity swarmed around Chris as red suits mingled with black and a large space appeared directly in front of him and the empty Locator beckoned. 

“Sir, your flex card please,” said the bouncer appearing at Chris’ side with a pay unit. 

Chris staggered into the Locator and eased Zee off his shoulder gently onto the floor. Wiping his bloodied hands on his shirt, Chris dug into his pocket and brandished his flex card. The transaction completed swiftly and as Chris was handed back his flex card, he emptied the remainder of his pockets into the bouncer’s hands as Karl’s distinctive roar drifted into the hallway. 

“Here take these,” said Chris filling the large hands in front of him with gold edged betting chips. “Take ‘em. Cash ‘em in, get the credits back.”

“I can’t take these Sir,” said the bouncer.

“Yes you can,” said Chris punching in the address for his apartment into the Locator’s panel. “I want you to do something for me. You know that guy with the red mask in the room? I don’t want him following me. Delete my address from the Locator when I leave. You can spend the rest of the credits, or get a new gig, or whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Thanks for your help.”

The bouncer nodded as the Locator hummed into life and Chris crouched down, pulling Zee into his arms as the hallway filled with curious onlookers disappeared and was replaced with the quiet subdued confines of his apartment. 

Chris slumped to the floor of the Locator with the dead weight of Zee cradled in one arm. Shaking with adrenaline, he pushed back dark sweat damp hair and traced faint bruising at the edge of Zee’s swollen mouth with his fingers. 

Chris tore away a sleeve from his shirt and spat on his hand. Wiping away red body paint from pale cheeks, he trailed a finger across Zee’s brows brushing gently against the brow piercing and focused on red paint caked lashes of closed eyes in front of him. 

“Zee? Zee? Talk to me,” said Chris and blew gently on Zee’s face. He held his own breath as he listened to the sound of shallow breathing and placed his hand against Zee’s chest feeling the slow rhythm of a heartbeat. “Wake up, please. Talk to me. Everything’s alright now, please, talk to me.” 

Chris trailed his fingers lightly down Zee’s body and hesitated as they touched something wet and sticky out of sight on Zee’s flank. His hand came away covered in fresh blood and he caught his breath as Zee’s hand rose slowly and curled its fingers into his shirt. 

“Christopher.”

Relief flooded through Chris and he rubbed his hand on the knee of his pants to wipe away the blood. “Zee. I’m sorry. It’s okay, you’re safe, everything’s okay. I’m so sorry,” he said and lightly touched the side of Zee’s face. 

Zee’s throat flexed as he swallowed. “You apologise too much, Christopher,” he whispered.

Chris laughed painfully and screwed his eyes shut against threatening tears. “I know. I know I do. I’m sorry,” he said and futilely wiped Zee’s face with a piece of torn shirt. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Yes you are,” breathed Zee. 

Chris nodded. “Yes I am,” he said. “But so are you. What were you doing in that place? What were you thinking?”

Zee gave a minute shake of his head and turned his face into Chris’ chest. 

Chris wiped away angry tears as and as Zee started to shake, wrapped his arms around him. “It’s okay, you don’t have to go back there. It’s over. It’s finished,” he said and tried to hold Zee closer. His hand slithered slick with blood over Zee’s flank. “Jesus, I’ve gotta get you to an OP.”

Zee shook his head and his fingers tightened into the front of Chris’ shirt. 

“No? No OP? Okay, okay,” said Chris and looked helplessly around his lounge. “What do you need? Tell me. What do you want me to do?”

Zee shook his head again. 

“I don’t understand,” whispered Chris. “You have to tell me what you want.”

Zee buried his face into Chris’ chest. “I can’t have what I want,” he mumbled. 

“Yes you can,” said Chris, and looked down at the slow tear that crept over the edge of Zee’s nose. “You can, I promise, I promise you. Tell me what you want.”

Zee swallowed. “I want, to go, away.” Chris craned his head closer to hear Zee whisper. “Where no one knows me. I want, everything to stop. I don’t want to be here any more.”

Chris blinked and looked helplessly down Zee’s body and into the lounge. The severe confines of the apartment seemed to press and force Chris toward possibility. Gently pushing his fingers through Zee’s hair he looked down on the paint smeared face against his chest. “I can do that, I can do that. I promise,” he said vehemently. “I er.. We got to er... get you cleaned up and then er.. we can go. I’ll get you some clothes and er.. I’ll er.. I take you away. I promise.” At a shudder against his chest, he pulled Zee close. 

Chris shifted against the floor of the Locator trying to get his legs under him and with monumental effort managed to lift Zee. Carrying the all but dead weight against him, Chris staggered into his bedroom and carefully lowered Zee onto the bed. As Zee curled onto his side, the full extent of Karl’s flogging became visible and Chris looked briefly away from the bloodied strips that crisscrossed across the back of Zee’s body.

Chris tried to formulate coherent thought as he leant over Zee. “Okay, we need to get you cleaned up and er.. wash this paint off you and er.. then er..—“

“No. I want to go now,” mumbled Zee and curled tighter. 

“Okay, okay. We can do that, we’ll go now,” said Chris petting Zee’s shoulder lightly. “I er.. I’ll get you some clothes, and you can dress and er.. and I er.. hang on, hang on a minute.”

Chris scrambled off the bed. He dragged every variation of paper clothing out of the wardrobe dispenser and grabbed a pair of paper loafers, bundling them into his arms and rifled through the wardrobe pulling out his father’s thick padded jacket. Laying the clothing on the side of the bed near Zee, he gently laid a hand on Zee’s shoulder. “I got some clothes here, you can, choose what you want and er.. dress and er.. I’ll be right back okay, I promise. I gotta go get something and then I’ll be back and we can go okay. I won’t be long,” he said and pressed a kiss against Zee’s brow. Zee’s fingers curled into Chris’ shirt. 

“Christopher.”

“I’ll be back soon, I promise, I won’t be long and you can dress and then we’ll go. We’ll go away, like you want to. Okay. Stay here, don’t leave. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll be right back, I’ll promise,” said Chris and pulled reluctantly out of Zee’s grasp. 

Chris neurotically checked his pockets for his flex card as he dived out of the bedroom and headed straight for the Locator. He swore under his breath as the destination address he entered into the Locator was denied. Punching in an another address, his glimpse of Zee laying on his bed disappeared as the Locator hummed and chill night air cut through his blood damp clothing as he stepped out onto his apartment’s shadowy landing pad and climbed straight into his air car. 

Chris hit the auto control, and as his air car lifted off, he took over manual control and guided the vehicle upwards. High Tower apartments flew past in quick succession and he rounded the spire at the top of his building and headed straight for the largest and most opulent tower ahead. Cruising swiftly in a wide arc, garden terraces of an expensive private home came into view and Chris banked his car dropping swiftly to the private parking pad. 

Frosted glass doors slithered open as Chris stepped out of his air car and crossed the polished white marble of the parking pad. The doors cut off the chill night behind him as he walked through into a quiet grand hallway and a soft ping announced his arrival. 

Chris paused and listened to the sound of approaching footsteps and smiled with genuine relief as he saw a black suit with familiar blue waistcoat appear at the end of the hall. His mother’s personal valet approached with his usual impassive veneer though did raise an eyebrow as he looked Chris up and down.

“Good evening, Master Pine?” 

“Hi Garret,” said Chris keeping his voice low. He ran his hands over his shabby blood smeared paper clothes. “Sorry I didn’t mean to come like this, I just didn’t know where else to go and er.. I tried the Locator but it was locked.”

“Are you, in need of assistance, Master Pine?” asked Garret. 

Chris smiled at the usual professional diplomacy and rubbed nervously at the growth on his face. “I’m fine, but I do need some help. I er.. I came to ask if I could have the keys to the summer house please. And I don’t want anyone to know I’m there,” he said. 

Garret’s brow barely twitched. “You intend to take a sojourn, I quite understand, Sir. Of course, I’m sure your mother, were she not indisposed, would have no objection to you using the summer house,” he said. 

“Thanks Garret,” said Chris and glanced down the hallway. “Is he here?”

“Your step-father is here and, occupied, at present in the study,” said Garret quietly. 

Chris suppressed a shudder and looked around the hall for a means of concealment. “Oh shit, I er.. I’ll wait in my car I think. It’s probably best not to disturb him,” he said. 

“Of course, Master Pine, I understand. I shall bring the keys out to you,” said Garret. 

Chris hastily abandoned the hallway, creeping out onto the landing pad and climbed into his air car. Painful minutes ticked past, and he raised his hands sniffing at a familiar scent of Zee on his finger tips and pushed aside anxiety at the idea of returning to his apartment only to find it empty. A tap on the window startled him and he opened the window as Garret leaned down.

“The keys, Sir,” said Garret and handed Chris a small bunch of manual keys. 

“Thanks Garret,” said Chris and offered the best smile he could.

“I took the liberty of packing a small hamper for you, Sir. Only a few essentials. I assumed that, due to your busy schedule, you would not have had time to prepare for your sojourn. Shall I put it in the back of the car Sir?” asked Garret. 

Chris chuckled, a relief mixed with a sudden exhaustion. “Yeah, yeah, thanks Garret. Thank you, I appreciate that,” he said and looked over his shoulder as Garret pushed a large hamper into the truck of the car. 

“May you have a good journey, Sir,” said Garret as he returned and leaned down at the window. “And, drive carefully Master Pine.”

“Garret. Thank you.” Chris said. 

“Good night, Sir,” said Garret. 

Chris raised the window as Garret nodded politely and left the landing pad. Hitting the auto control, Chris settled back and finally breathed relief as his car glided upwards and banked slowly heading back towards his apartment. He looked up through air car’s glass roof at the open sky and picked out the faint shapes of star constellations and hoped that his plan for escape would work.


	8. Chapter 8

Zee opened his eyes and immediately closed them as his body gave another painful throb. Moving slowly, he uncurled slightly against the yielding softness of the bed and clenched a fist as soreness mingled with numbing pain in his back. 

“Christopher?”

The silence in the apartment forced him to open his eyes again. The bedroom looked as it always did, stark and utilitarian yet the normally closed wardrobe was open revealing a mess of brick-a-brack and personal belongings. 

Zee looked at the piles of paper clothing on the edge of the bed. The thick padded jacket nearby brought a wistful memory of afternoon sun and cold wind. He glanced over his shoulder at the bedroom ceiling and the reflection of his body curled upon the bed. Red paint smeared all over him clashed with the all black interior of the bedroom and the bloodied wealds across his back and buttocks glowed angrily. 

_Place your bets, Black or Red._

Zee moved slowly, dragging himself onto his elbow and shifted inexorably closer to the edge of the bed until his legs slithered over the side. Paper clothing slipped off the edge of the bed onto the floor as his movements pulled the black bed sheet down with him and he settled his feet upon the tiled floor. His body hummed in protest and he breathed through the persistent burn in his back as his eyes settled on neatly folded deep blue clothing on the floor at his feet. 

_Everything is going to be okay._

Vague recollections of Chris shouting jarred with images of a spinning wheel and Zee leaned down slowly picking the clothing off the floor. His fingers protested at the detailed movements needed to unbutton the paper shirt and he rubbed his hand over leather straps still bound around tender skin on his wrists. As he pushed an arm into a shirt sleeve, a deep ache in the pit of his shoulder reminded him of the tightness of leather and the weight of his body pulling on his wrists bringing pressure into his fingers. 

_One._

Zee winced as he tried to turn his arm around his back to capture the other shirt sleeve and ignited a burning heat in his shoulder as sheered muscle protested. A tearing noise as paper yielded to his efforts allowed him to pull the sleeve onto his arm and he gasped as feather light paper touched his back and stuck to the sticky residue of his own blood. 

_Two._

Chris’ angry face loomed briefly at the corner of Zee’s consciousness. He screwed his eyes tight and forced himself onto the side of the bed, propping himself on an elbow and floated in discomfort until he became accustomed to the throbbing in his back. Reaching for a pair of dark paper pants, he cautiously stepped into them, pulling them slowly up over his knees. He lifted his hips and gritted his teeth against the agony of paper touching sensitive skin on his rear. 

_Three._

Zee groaned and pushed one of a remaining pair of loafers off the edge of the bed to join the other already on the floor. He toed both carefully towards his feet and tried to push a foot into the stiff paper. The memory of whispering loafers across a tiled floor and sunshine drifted into his head and he crushed the heel of the loafters under his own and regarded the difference in size of his feet to those of the owner of the loafers he now wore. His attempt to wear Chris’ clothes struck him deeply and a sense he was an imposter trying to blend into a world where he did not belong overwhelmed him.

_Four._

Zee clamped his mouth shut as emotion pushed hard against the inside of his chest. He told himself Chris was a User. The smiling face of Red mingled with Chris’ shouts behind closed eyes and Zee struggled to break free of his own doubt. Self preservation told him there was no way out and that there never had been any possibility. It smothered the echo of Chris’ promises and Zee rubbed away his tears telling himself again Chris was a User. 

_Five._

The padded jacket on the bed called to Zee and an image of open sky and the touch of warm sunlight on his face mingled with a ghost of a memory of blue eyes that smiled. Zee reached and curled his fingers into the collar of the padded jacket and pulled it toward him. The yielding texture whispered under his hand, speaking of unblemished horizons and other places he had never seen and a life lived beyond his comprehension and out of reach.

_Six._

Zee futilely picked at a tight knot in the leather strap on his wrist and tried to button the paper shirt with stiff fingers. He abandoned both, pulling the shirt as close as he could over his chest and sat immersed in the painful throb of his body. The sound of the Locator humming in the background brought him from reverie and for the first time in his life as the whisper of loafers across a tiled floor approached the bedroom, self preservation wavered as he entertained hope. Drawing the padded jacket into his arms he tried to pull the paper shirt closer over his chest and froze as Karl appeared shirtless in the bedroom doorway. 

“You,” breathed Zee and watched Karl’s eyes dart around the bedroom settling briefly on the paper clothes on the bed. 

Karl took a step into the bedroom and sneered at Zee’s obvious tension. “I came to see Chris. I wanna have a word,” he said and glanced at the bathroom door.

Zee shifted painfully on the edge of the bed and lost one of Chris’ loafers as he tried to get his feet under him. “What for?” he said and self preservation sent a warning jolt through him as a menacing expression spread across Karl’s face. 

Karl bellowed at the top of his voice. “CHRIS.”

An ominous silence settled as Karl’s shout dissipated. The sound of paper clothing slipping off the bed drew Karl’s attention and Zee braced rigid on the edge of the bed. 

“He’s not here is he?” Karl asked and swaggered further into the bedroom. 

Zee inched along the edge of the bed and bunched his fists into the padded jacket. “He’s coming back,” he said and incomprehension passed across Karl’s face.

“For you?” asked Karl.

Zee nodded. “Yes.”

Karl’s expression darkened.

 _Place your bets, Black or Red._

Zee yelped and dived off the edge of the bed as Karl lunged. Paper clothing scattered and Karl’s incoherent bellow sent Zee scrambling across the floor toward the window. As Zee managed to get his legs under him, a heavy weight slammed against his back sending fresh agony through him and sent him crashing into the window blinds. A punishing blow into the back of his ribcage ripped the air out his lungs and he staggered snapping window blinds under his grasp as he fell down into the space between the window and the top of the bed. 

Karl’s snarling face was on him and Zee thrashed wildly and felt his fists impact unyielding muscle. Momentarily was free, twisting through the gap at the top of the bed, knees and hands sliding as bed sheets slithered across the tiled floor and his eyes fixed on the empty bedroom door and the Locator in the lounge beyond. Suddenly fingers clawed into his hair and he grasped futilely at the powerful grip that snapped his head back and screamed as pain erupted in his scalp as he was dragged across the floor. His legs scissored as he tried to stand and the room spun as he lost control of his body to enforced momentum as Karl threw him. 

White exploded behind his eyes as he impacted the mirrored wall, instantaneously separating him from the pain in his body. The floor met him, hard and distant. Then the room moved and he moved with it in a half light, vaguely aware of fingers gripping his hair and the repeated gritty surface of the broken mirror slamming into his cheek. Taste of his own blood accompanied the dead snap of his nose and pressure filled his face. Hard became yielding softness as he landed again and he coughed as he floated, saturated by overwhelming sensation. His arms moved and the excruciating pain in his shoulders awoke him to realisation they were pinned high on his back. The endless black surface he stared at became comprehensible as the light through edge of the bedroom door gave form to the bedroom. Tearing of paper and clawed fingers against the skin on his backside brought panic and the pressure in his abdomen from the edge of the bed met pain as his legs were trapped. 

Zee screamed and Karl’s litany of verbal abuse filled the air. He screamed again as forcing pressure near his perineum turned to stabbing agony as his body unwillingly surrendered and flesh pounded into his own accompanied by Karl’s steadily rising shout counting each thrust. A cracking noise released his arms and abruptly emptied him, and he flailed helplessly against hands grabbing him and dragging him off the bed. The room spun again and Chris’ face loomed in front of him through a haze of blood.

“Zee!”

Zee staggered as Chris pulled him and he fell over the side of the bed as Chris swiftly let go. Karl’s roar sent new panic through him and he scrambled out from under Chris’ legs pulling himself toward the bedroom door as Karl loomed, lurching to his feet with blood running down his face. The fury in Karl was obscured as Chris spun, wielding a broken leg from the lounge coffee table over his head and Karl reappeared as Chris’ blow struck. Chris swung again and the crack of snapping wood sent splinters through the air as Karl landed heavily on the bedroom floor. 

Chris gasped and fell back over the edge of the bed and the remains of the coffee table leg clattered against the floor. Scrambling across the room he dragged Zee to a stand and tumbled out into the lounge with him in his arms.

Zee stumbled on unresponsive legs trapped in the torn remains of paper pants and looked back over his shoulder through a bloody haze. 

“Don’t look, don’t look at him,” said Chris pulling at Zee and trying to yank up Zee’s pants.

Zee tumbled to the hard floor and sunk his fingers into Chris’ shirt. The paper pants ripped again as he kicked out and were abandoned on the lounge floor as Chris dragged him forcibly to his feet. Chris’ face blurred in front of him and he blinked away the blood in his eyes focusing briefly on the mass of broken furniture in the lounge and the smashed liquid crystal surface of the E-Wall. Pain erupted afresh in his ribcage as Chris’ arm wrapped around him and gripped tightly, and fear rippled through him as Karl’s voice bellowed through the apartment. 

“Jesus Christ,” gasped Chris and hauled Zee into the Locator. Slamming his hand on the panel he punched in an address and as the Locator hummed Karl’s shout brought him spinning round with Zee hanging against him. 

Karl staggered through the bedroom door, his hair plastered to the side of his head as blood poured from an unseen wound and saturated the side of his face and chest. 

Chris frantically pounded the Locator panel as Karl rampaged across the lounge bellowing incoherently. Zee yelped, staggering back against the wall of the Locator. 

“Christopher!”

“Fuck!”

Karl’s maniacal face and outstretched hands vanished inches from the Locator and a blast of cold night air made Zee gasp. 

“Come on,” shouted Chris and dragged Zee out of the Locator onto the apartment’s shadowy landing pad, crashing against the side of a bulky limousine parked diagonally. Pulling Zee hard against him Chris forged across the landing pad towards his air car at the far end and swore under his breath as the Locator hummed into life. 

“Get in, get in,” yelled Chris, opening the door on his air car and toppled Zee into the back seat. Trapped in a mass of tangled limbs, Chris heard Karl’s shout replace the sound of the Locator. “Fuck, Jesus Christ. Zee move, move, for Christ’s sake.”

Frantically extracting himself from under Zee, Chris pulled the door closed and scrambled over into the front seat hitting the auto control as Karl impacted bodily against the side of the car. Nails scraped across the back window and Karl’s snarling face appeared. 

“Fuck. Get the fuck away from us,” shouted Chris as the air car lifted off the landing pad. A hard thump resounded against the back panel of the car. 

Chris shook and leaned over the seat watching the garden terraces of his apartment vanish into the night as the air car began a lazy spiralling decent. The shadowy landing pad stood empty. His attention dropped to the naked heap laying on the back seat and his fingers touched warm shaking flesh on Zee’s flank. “It’s okay, he’s gone. Jesus Christ Zee. Talk to me,” he said and he tightly gripped the hand that snaked out searching for something to hold on to. 

“Christopher.”

Chris swallowed guilt and screwed his eyes tight against burning tears. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you there. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. It’s my fault. Fuck, Zee, I’m so sorry.” A shaky sob answered him and he squeezed the hand in his own. Pressing his face against the padded head rest on the seat he allowed the pressure in his chest to explode, inarticulately venting a need for retribution. The hand in his squeezed tight.

The solace inside the air car which followed was cut through as a proximity alarm sounded abruptly and Chris was blinded by white head lights as his eyes snapped open. Thrown against the side of the door, he heard Zee cry out as the air car spun and the proximity alarm changed to loud impact alarm turning the inside of the car bright red. Seconds of disruption stopped as the air car’s auto control righted the spin and Chris swore as white head lights appeared in the side window. Zee cried out again as the air car was flung to the side and Chris ricocheted out of his seat smashing against the dashboard. 

Gasping for the air knocked out of his lungs, Chris hit the emergency manual override and watched in horror as Karl’s limousine rounded and began another death run. “Fucking Jesus Christ,” shouted Chris and banked his air car sharply sending Zee sliding across the back seat in a tumble of arms and legs. The limousine struck a glancing blow and Chris fought for control as impact alarms sounded. 

Chris hit the accelerator and felt Zee hit the back of his seat as he guided the air car into a rapid arcing decent through the darkness toward a busy feeder lane below. White lights following behind glared in the air car’s mirrors and Chris swore under his breath as he frantically pulled seat restraints tightly around his body. 

“Zee, strap yourself in, for God’s sake,” said Chris looking for a gap in the feeder lane ahead. “Zee, talk to me.”

Zee’s muffled voice accompanied pressure at the back of Chris’ chair. “I can’t move.” 

“Hang on.” Chris braced his hand against the horn and counting on proximity alarms in other cars, turned the steering at the last possible moment sending Zee flying onto the back seat as the air car levelled abruptly and clipped a nearby vehicle. Impact alarms blared and other air cars swerved ahead of Chris as he braked and Zee hit the back of the seat with a grunt. “Oh shit.” 

Chris risked looking over his shoulder as the air car’s mirrors filled with white head lights from other vehicles. Air cars behind danced through the feeder lane and Karl’s limousine appeared sending an unfortunate driver spinning. Zee’s startled face appeared at the side of Chris’ head rest. 

“Look out,” shouted Zee. 

Chris attention snapped to the lane in front of him and he skimmed the edge of braking vehicle ahead. Steering a mad course toward the mid quarter of the city sent Zee tumbling in the back seat. Buildings rose on either side as the traffic in the feeder lane intensified and the wildly moving head lights from Karl’s limousine flickered in Chris’ mirrors. Chris swore as he was forced to brake again and the air car echoed with the scrape of transparent aluminium as he squeezed between to vehicles. A sudden impact from behind caught Chris off guard and he lost control as Karl’s limousine accelerated pushing the air car into the oncoming flow of an adjacent feeder lane. 

Proximity and impact alarms mixed with blaring horns and head lights blinded Chris as he struggled to regain control. He gasped as the side of a building loomed directly ahead and helplessly turned the steering as his air car ground side on into a liquid crystal advertisement billboard. Sparks flew across the hood of the car and Zee yelped as he was thrown again when Karl’s limousine shunted from behind. 

Chris hit the accelerator forging his way through spreading oncoming traffic in the feeder lane in a desperate attempt to put distance between him and Karl. Buildings narrowed on either side squashing the space, and gaps between vehicles ahead began to disappear. Karl’s limousine impacted again. 

“Jesus Christ this guy’s gonna kill us,” shouted Chris as his air car ricocheted off another and scraped the side of floating advertisement pod. 

Horror spread through Chris as he saw a wall of air cars directly in front of him blocking any means of escape and as the headlights from Karl’s limousine filled side window he hit the accelerator and nose dived the air car. Zee crashed into the back of Chris’ seat and tumbling over the top into the front of the car in a tangle of arms and legs, landed heavily against the windscreen with an ominous crack. 

A resounding boom of a small explosion dragged Chris’ attention to flanking mirrors as shrapnel peppered the car and the smog barrier below approached as the car hurtled past buildings. The air car’s drive system screamed in protest as Chris pounded on the brake and more burning debris littered the car as the smog barrier ahead billowed and swallowed Chris’ car. Bright lights and night turned to a dark pea souper. 

Chris gasped, frantically pulling on the steering trying to level the car as tangled metal loomed out of the smog ahead scraping across the hood of the car and an unseen obstacle clipped the fender. Suddenly Chris lost steering control as lights on the dashboard flickered and the protesting drive system cut out and his air car plunged through a web of twisted metal. The car filled with the sound of rending transparent aluminium as the metal mesh outside thickened and Chris helplessly stretched out toward Zee as the air car tilted and Zee fell lifelessly out of reach against the side of the car. Momentum slowly ceased and Chris hung in his seat tethered by his safety restraints, looking down on Zee’s unconscious body. 

Outside the smog illuminated briefly as burning debris fluttered past and Chris glanced back up through his side window as pieces from an advertisement pod peppered his car. Seconds later the sound of protesting metal sent a vibration through the car and Chris’ eyes widened as a large orange glow appeared in the smog overhead. The car moved again and Chris braced his arms as it came level and Zee disappeared head first over the seat next to him as the remains of an advertisement pod tumbled past dragging metal web with it. 

Chris’ heart hammered in his chest and leaped as Karl’s limousine crashed into the car hood seconds later and pivoted. As the limousine dropped snagging the wing as it toppled over, Zee tumbled past Chris smashing against the windscreen as Chris’ car upended. The mesh around the car protested as the weight of Karl’s limousine dragged Chris’ car down and Chris yelled fear as his car slithered in the sound of screaming metal until momentum halted. 

Chris hung helplessly in his safety restraints feeling the pull of gravity as silence settled and the smog billowed outside the window. The head lamps from Karl’s limousine were the only illumination and trapped Chris in dazzling white. Zee lay face down in a tangle of limbs silhouetted across the windscreen in the tattered remains of his shirt and Chris stretched out his fingers trying to touch paint caked dark hair well out of reach. 

“Zee? Talk to me. Zee wake up. Zee.” Chris pulled futilely at his safety restraints and slowly tried to lift his knee past the dashboard to gain purchase. “Fuck. Jesus Christ gimme a break here. Zee. Wake up—Goddamn it.” Chris stopped struggling as Zee groaned and an arm moved across the windscreen. 

“Christopher?” 

“I’m right here, I’m right here,” said Chris and stretched out a hand grasping at empty air trying to touch Zee.

Zee opened his eyes and opened his mouth in a silent cry as his whole body throbbed with pain. The cold windscreen pressed against his stomach and shifting against the glass he blinked, blinded by white light from the limousine’s head lamps and tried to orientate himself. The smog shifted around outside and he looked down on the empty space beyond the windscreen and craned his neck to look up at Chris hanging from seat restraints. 

“Hey,” said Chris, and laughed with mixed relief as he glimpsed shock in dark eyes. 

“Hey,” said Zee and tried to move his hands under him. As he braced and shifted a leg trying to move, a brittle crack snaked across the centre of the windowscreen and he froze. 

Chris instinctively shot out a hand. “Zee, don’t move. Get off the glass,” he said. 

Zee held his breath. “I can’t do both,” he quailed. 

Chris struggled in his restraints. “Get off the glass, just, just, move real slow, just get off the glass,” he said trying to get a foot hold on the dashboard. 

Zee stretched out a trembling arm and ran a hand over the sculpted dashboard above him trying to find purchase. “I can’t reach,” he said and the sound of slowly splitting glass halted him. He looked up at Chris. “Christopher I’m going to fall.”

Chris strained against his safety restraints. “No you’re not, not you’re not. Just- stay there I’m coming to get you. Don’t move, the more you move the worse—“

Rending metal sent a shudder through the car and the sound of an impact outside the car made Zee glance down. Karl’s snarling face appeared in the limousine’s window and the sound of the impact took form as Karl kicked against the limousine’s windscreen. 

“Christopher.”

“Shit, shit, shit. I see him, I see him,” said Chris and hit the auto control in desperation. Lights flickered on the dashboard and the drive unit stuttered. 

Karl’s foot shattered the limousine’s windscreen and his distinctive yet muted yell sent panic through Zee. 

Zee shifted instinctively and the windscreen crackled as splits spidered underneath him. 

“Christopher.” 

“I know, I know, I know.” Chris slammed his hand on the steering wheel as the air car continued to stutter. “Come on. Come on. Goddamn it, start you piece of shit.”

Zee let out a yelp. Karl clawed his way up through the empty limousine window and Zee saw the maniacal burn in his eyes. An image of Karl standing in Chris’ bedroom door flashed through his head and he let out a wail as a corresponding throb inside him reminded him of brutality in the man. Karl lunged grabbing hold of the limousine’s fender and locked eyes with Zee. 

“CHRISTOPHER!”

“I KNOW!”

Chris thrashed in his restraints and Zee’s frightened scream joined the sound of rending metal vibrating through the air car as Karl kicked and scrabbled against the hood of the limousine. 

Chris’ car jolted as the web of metal around gave way and Karl slipped and fell back into through the limousine’s window. Zee gasped as the glass under him crackled and feathered. 

“Zee, get off the glass,” yelled Chris and pounded the steering wheel as Karl’s face appeared again.

Zee looked down into the limousine as Karl scrambled for hand holds and as Chris’ car lurched again the scream from protesting metal swamped his own. Karl’s furious eyes fixed on Zee.

“Fucking die,” screamed Zee as metal outside gave way and Karl’s expression turned to fear as the limousine tore loose from the front of Chris’ air car and dropped. 

Chris instinctively shot out a hand as Karl reached helplessly and disappeared as the limousine vanished into the smog. 

The sound of cracking metal sent vibrations through the air car and Chris held his breath in the growing darkness listening to the screech and crush of something falling out of sight until silence filled the air car. 

Zee lay on the windscreen trembling as he stared down into dark billowing smog and caught his breath as a strange animal sounding wail echoed through the deadly silence outside. A rhythmic knocking commenced and the wire web outside the air car fed the noise into Chris’ car. 

Chris wildly looked around. “What the fuck is that?” 

“Christopher, we have to get out of here now,” Zee quavered. 

“What? What the fuck is that?” asked Chris gripping his restraints. 

“Scavengers,” said Zee and cried out as the glass crackled under him. 

Fear rippled through Chris. He frantically scratched at the auto control and the air car stuttered and coughed. Lights flickered on the dash and briefly the head lamps illuminated the smog only to die seconds later. 

“Fucking come on,” shouted Chris and beat the steering wheel with a hand as he pressed the auto control and Zee’s panicked cry sounded over screeching metal as the car tipped and began to fall. 

Chris cried out as the car toppled and he reached up as Zee wailed and slithered along the windcscreen into the curve of the glass roof. Hanging upside down, Chris tried to grab hold of Zee’s body as it squeaked past him along the glass roof as the car folded over. Zee’s failing hands gripped Chris’ momentarily as gravity continued to pull the car and Chris lost his grip as Zee slid again disappearing into the back seat in a mass of arms and legs as the car flipped and righted itself. 

Chris slammed his hand against the auto control feeling gravity begin to pull again and the wailing in the smog outside turned to frantic screaming as metal web shrieked. The car stuttered and hacked into life and Chris wrenched the steering as power lit up the dash board in front of him. The drive system protested alarmingly and the air car shuddered as it began to lift. 

“Come on,” yelled Chris. 

Metal web clawed across the air car’s transparent aluminium and Chris yelled incoherently over the labouring drive system as it strained and lifted the car through debris in the smog. 

The disembodied wails and shrieks began to fade and as the air car clipped something unseen Chris felt a shudder through the steering that told him he was free. Looking up through the cracked glass roof, he could see the billowing smog take on hint of colour and held his breath as the air car heaved itself out of the smog. Bright neon light flooded the car as the buildings of the city’s mid quarter rose overhead and Chris shouted triumphantly as his car coughed and climbed its way upward. The busy flow of air cars high above welcomed him and the billboards dazzled in bright blue as Chris guided his wheezing car to the first available boulevard strip. 

Landing in a cloud of overheated fumes and ionisation Chris sank his head against the steering column and laughed in gasped relief. The car continued to stutter and cough, clearing its air filters until it settled into a gentle purr and Chris patted the dash in genuine thanks. Unhooking his restraints he glanced at the gathering curious people outside and leaned over his seat. The back seat was empty and moment of mad panic gripped Chris as he looked around until the shadows revealed Zee’s crumpled body laying in the foot wells. 

“God, I thought I’d lost you,” said Chris and shakily reached down. 

Zee looked up at the tentative touch on his hip. Chris’ smiling face stared down and as neon Tab adverts turned the interior of the air car cerulean, Chris eyes glowed bright blue.

“Hey,” said Chris as Zee’s dark eyes blinked up at him out of a bloodied face. 

“Hey,” whispered Zee and slipped his hand into Chris’. The familiar gentle touch of a thumb brushing against the back of his hand brought tears and Zee screwed his eyes shut as pressure of relief in his chest mixed with the agony in his body.

“It’s okay,” said Chris and glanced at the few faces from the crowd outside which loomed close to the air car’s windows. “I think we’d better get out of here. We’re drawing a crowd. I’m going to take you to an OP.” 

“No,” said Zee. “No I want to go. You promised.”

“Yeah, yeah I know I did, and we will go but I gotta get you to an OP. You need it,” insisted Chris and fumbled dragging off his shirt. He lay the scrappy paper over Zee’s hip trying to afford modesty.

“No, no OP,” said Zee.

A woman’s face pressed against the window of the car. Chris swore and warded the woman away. “Yes, you have to, you’re hurt,” said Chris and leaned down to touch Zee on the shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got to get you checked out. You know you need it.”

“I’m Trash. I’m not allowed,” cried Zee. “They won’t treat me. Trash aren’t allowed.”

“They will if I—“

“No Christopher.” Zee wailed and pounded the back of the seat with a fist. “You promised. I want to go away. Please.”

Chris screwed his fingers into his hair and tugged in desperation. “Okay, okay, I’ll—we’ll go, we’ll go now, just like I said. Just—Goddamn it.”

Chris slumped into the front seat and swore at people gathered around his car. Hitting the manual control he revved the car scattering the nosey gathering with a warning cloud of residual smoggy fumes from the air filters and hit the auto control. The air car lifted gracefully off the boulevard strip with only a minor wheeze and began a slow spiral upwards towards a feeder lane. 

Chris pressed his face against the window and looked down on the smog barrier below. Karl’s angry face reared once inside his head and Chris suppressed a shudder as something unpleasant crawled through his gut. The air car joined a feeder lane and Chris looked through the glare of neon billboards as the thin spires of High Towers peaked in the distance. As the car sped along in humming silence following an auto route it diverted around an emergency cordon near smashed billboards and Chris watched the blue and red flicking lights of hovering police vehicles gradually disappear as his car threaded its way out of mid quarter. 

Chris hit the manual control as High Towers loomed and steered his air car away. Banking gently with his mind on Zee, he guided his car steadily towards the freeway routes and as he passed floating signage marking the outer limits of the city he finally settled into his seat with a sigh. The empty dark ahead flickered briefly with head lamps from a few vehicles heading in the opposite direction toward the city and Chris programmed a route into his car’s Nav-Pad. Switching over to auto control, Chris finally let go of the steering and closed his eyes as the air car accelerated smoothly to its top cruising speed. Karl’s bloodied face and Zee’s helpless prone body on the bed of his apartment filled his mind and Chris covered his mouth with a hand as he began to cry. 

A light mist drifting in the headlights through the darkness ahead became an intermittent patter against the fractured windscreen and Chris watched the beginnings of moisture streak across the glass roof of the air car. The gentle tattoo of rain droplets increased and the air car’s autowipe system kicked in adding a steady rhythm as wipers spread repeatedly across the windscreen. The combination of sound and exhaustion was enough to lull Chris into fitful dozing as an hour grew into two and he turned up the warm air filters against the growing chill of late night and curled into his seat. He reached around the side searching for Zee who lay upon the floor in the shadows and watched the gentle rise and fall of a bony ribcage. Zee’s head lay in the curl of an arm, fingers of a hand wrapped protectively around a paint caked dark crown of hair and the details of closed eyes and dark bruising on a swollen cheek and mouth merged with the shadows. Chris settled back into his seat and watched the slow creep of droplets of water through the cracked windscreen hit the car’s dash board until he fell asleep. 

Zee’s senses awoke him from dark dreamless oblivion and told him he was alone. The gentle hum of the air car’s drive system had ceased leaving only the patter of rain on the glass roof above and the dark interior of the car clicked occasionally as hot air filter’s cooled. A crunching noise as something approached from outside sent mild panic rising and he gasped as cold air touched him when the door near his head opened. Blinking up into shadows he protectively warded off something dark and his fingers touched warm softness as a blanket was laid over him. Chris’ distinctive touch soothed him as a hand slipped into his own and squeezed gently, a thumb running over the back of his hand briefly before releasing. 

“Come on,” whispered Chris. “Help me here, I need to get you inside.”

“Where?” asked Zee and gasped as pain shot through his ribcage as he tried to move. 

“Where no one can find you, and no one knows you,” said Chris, slipping his arms under Zee’s. 

Zee gritted his teeth against pain and forced his legs to move as Chris pulled him from the back of the car. His feet touched coarse wet gravel and chill rain pattered across his shoulders in the freezing night air setting him to shiver as Chris shut the car door. Strange smells and distant sounds filled Zee’s senses as Chris adjusted the blanket around him. A light ahead at the end of a winding path gave shape to a dark structure against the night. 

Zee balked. “What is this? Where am I?”

“It’s okay,” said Chris cajoling a step forward out of Zee. “It’s a safe place. No one else is here. It’s my father’s house. You’ll be safe here.” 

Zee’s eyes darted around over unfamiliar plant growth rising darkly as he was led down the path. “What’s that noise?” 

“That? That’s the ocean,” said Chris and helped Zee over the threshold into hallway long chill from lack of use. He kicked the door shut behind him and steered Zee towards a staircase.

“The sea? We’re by the sea?” asked Zee as he leaned heavily against Chris trying to absorb the unfamiliar smells and textures as his feet touched brushed carpet. 

“Yeah, that’s right. You’ll see it soon, it’ll be light in another hour or so. It’s nice here. Old but nice.” Chris pulled Zee onto a landing and hit a retro switch on the wall as he turned through a doorway and guided Zee into a large bedroom. 

Zee settled with a gasp onto a springy bed and looked around a room filled with retro furniture. 

Chris turned on a bedside lamp and darted across the room turning on more light as he opened a door into an en suite bathroom and disappeared. The sound of running water followed and Chris appeared in the bathroom doorway. 

“I’m running you a bath okay. I’m going to get you cleaned up and er… sorted out,” said Chris and shivered rubbing his bare arms with his hands. He forced a smile as Zee watched with wary dark eyes. 

“It’s freezing in here but it’ll warm up soon, the er.. heaters are a little cranky but er.. don’t worry about strange noises the thermal system is temperamental,” said Chris and crossed to a chest, pulling open drawers to rifle through clothes. “I’ll get you something warm to wear. There’s stuff here, um, my dad’s stuff actually but I’m sure it’ll be okay until we can get you something and er---“

“Christopher.”

Chris spun around dropping the clothes in his hands. “Yeah, what’s—what’s wrong what’s the matter?”

Zee tried to smile. “Thank you.”

Chris smiled wanly and picked clothes off the floor. Moving to the bed he kneeled down. “That’s okay. I just—oh god I’m sorry I just wish I could have—“

Zee bit back renewed helplessness and nodded silently as Chris’ head dropped against his leg. 

“I’m so sorry,” mumbled Chris and felt fingers in his hair. He touched the hand that curled into his own and squeezed gently, listening to the sound of running water in the background and Zee’s soft shuddering breaths. 

Chris rubbed his face into the blanket on Zee’s legs and wiped away tears as he pulled himself up. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said and lifted Zee bodily from the bed. 

The bathroom was full of steam, old creamy tiles that gave no reflection for which Chris was grateful as he levered Zee through the door. Only a mirror obscured by condensation on the wall opposite offered a faint image of a red body as he drew Zee to the bath and with a blunt pair of scissors, eventually cut through the leather bindings around Zee’s wrists and ankles. The bath water instantly changed to pink as red body paint began to disperse from Zee’s calves as he stepped in and Chris set to, gently sponging away the remains of the night as he worked steadily higher until he reached the first angry lash across the back of Zee’s thigh. 

Chris stared at thin claw marks across Zee’s rear and tried to stop his hand from shaking as he worked his way around flogging marks. 

As the water steadily turned to a darkening red as blood mixed with red paint, Chris emptied the bath and refilled. With the water rising slowly Zee lowered himself to his hands and knees and dunked his head. Immersed in warm silence he held his breath feeling the gentle touch of Chris’ sponge on the back of his neck and shoulders and the ache in his scalp and face. The sting in his cheek and lip steadily subsided joining the overall throbbing in his body and he drew painful breath as his ribcage protested when he lifted his head out of the water. Behind closed eyes he followed Chris’ slow ministrations across his body and as Chris turned the water off silence settled over the bathroom and he lowered himself to sit onto his heels. He hissed as hot water brought a sting from his wounds. 

“You okay there,” whispered Chris, squeezing the sponge over Zee’s shoulder. 

Zee nodded with his eyes closed and focused on the heat permeating his body. “I think my rib’s broken,” he said.

Chris ran the sponge down Zee’s back to a dark bruise on the right hand side. “By here?”

Zee nodded. “And, some of my fingers too,” he said, settling a little against the bottom of the bath. 

“Anything else?” asked Chris worriedly, wiping at red dye seeping out of the base of Zee’s hair. 

“I don’t think so. My shoulder really hurts but it’s not broken. My face hurts, all over. And my back hurts. And my ass,” said Zee taking a breath. “And I feel a little sick.”

Chris looked helplessly down the criss-cross of flogging marks visible above the pink stained water in the bath. “You want some pain killers, I can go get you some? There’s a med kit downstairs, I need to get it anyway,” he said and squeezed water over Zee’s spine.

“Yes please,” said Zee. 

Chris heaved himself up at the side of the bath. “I’ll be right back. You can hear me moving around so you’ll know it’s me okay,” he said. 

Zee nodded and a brief touch against his shoulder left him listening to the sound of Chris’ footsteps as they made their way out of the bathroom. He dunked his head under the water again and listened to the amplified sounds of movement through the house. Dull running steps and an indistinct thump formed a door closing and opening, and Zee lifted his head out of the water as the sound of Chris running up stairs brought movement back into the bathroom. 

Zee opened his eyes as Chris crouched next to the bath and worried eyes of remarkable blue turned on him. 

“Here take these,” said Chris offering four white pills in the palm of his hand.

“What are they?” asked Zee. “I don’t take Tabs.”

“These aren’t Tabs, I promise, they’re pain killers. Here, here, look.” Chris held up an Opiumol packet and picked a pill out of his palm offering it to Zee’s lips. “Go on take it, you need it.”

Zee opened his mouth as Chris’ fingers gently fed him pill after pill and drank hesitantly from a glass of water that followed. 

“I might throw up,” said Zee fighting a wave of nausea. 

“Well if you do I got more,” said Chris and picked up the sponge floating in the bath water. “Puke away if you have to.”

Zee settled against the side of the bath finding a relatively comfortable position leaning against his arm and rested his good cheek against cold ceramic. Chris’ face appeared opposite him, concern reflected in blue eyes. Chris sponged water over Zee’s back and wiped at seeping red in Zee’s hair. 

Slowly Zee began to experience the effects of the pain killers, the pounding in his body reducing to a background hum and the pressure in his face reduced to distant numbness. He saw Chris disappear after a while returning with a small bottle of wash gel that produced creamy suds and he closed his eyes as Chris’ fingers gently worked into his hair washing away the remains of stubborn red paint. Leaning back under Chris’ guidance he put his trust in the hand that cupped the back of his neck and closed his eyes, sighing as Chris rinsed water through his hair. 

With a body of lead, Zee finally stepped out of the bath and allowed Chris to dab him dry with a towel that smelled of long confinement. 

“I think your nose is broken,” said Chris examining Zee’s battered face. 

“I think you might be right,” said Zee and tried to sniff through the pressure between his eyes. “Put it back.”

“What? I can’t do that.” Chris eyes widened as he looked over the damage. 

“Yes you can,” said Zee and backed up against the sink. Gripping the edge with his hands he braced his feet. “Go on do it. Pinch it between your thumbs and push.”

Chris blanched. “Jesus Christ I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Do it. Do it now. If you don’t do it now it’s going to set. I can’t do it myself,” said Zee. 

Chris quailed under Zee’s intense stare. “Oh fuck, I can’t. I can’t do it—“

“Christopher I need you to do it for me. Please. I don’t want to walk around with a bent nose reminding me of the person who did it every time I look in a mirror. Do it now,” said Zee and gritted his teeth as Chris capitulated and stepped forward. 

Chris held his breath and placed his thumbs either side of Zee’s nose feeling the kink under puffy skin. “Oh fuck.”

“Do it fast. Just push,” said Zee and screwed his eyes tight, straining against the pressure in his face and yelled as Chris pushed hard. 

Chris barked as bone shifted under his fingers in dull snap and blood burst out of Zee’s nose. “Oh Jesus. Fuck. God. No. Oh god.” Grabbing a towel off the floor, Chris mopped up blood.

Zee swore and rested his head against Chris’ shoulder. 

“Don’t ever ask me to do that again,” said Chris wiping away errant tears. 

“I won’t,” mumbled Zee. “I need to lay down now.”

“Okay.”

Shivering in the initial chill of house air, Zee began to warm as his dry body emanated bath heat and he propped himself on the edge of the bed as Chris set about binding broken fingers and ribs and dressing wounds with antiseptic which raised fresh stinging on his back and rear. 

“Christopher that fucking hurts,” said Zee, gritting his teeth as Chris dabbed across a slash on his buttock. 

Chris winced sympathetically and laid gauze across a shallow strip of exposed flesh. “I’m sorry, but you don’t want infection right?” 

Zee grunted and reached behind himself with broken fingers bound in a splint. He traced a line of gauze low on his back. “How much more?” 

“That’s it I’m almost done,” said Chris and looked down Zee’s legs. “Are you er.. like.. I dunno, inside are you okay?”

“Is there blood?” asked Zee and glanced at Chris. Tentative fingers explored and he swallowed uncharacteristic embarrassment. 

“I can’t see anything,” said Chris. “Does it hurt?” 

“Okay leave it. I’m fine,” said Zee wincing a little. “I’ve had worse.”

“Worse? Are you kidding me?” Chris tore aggressively at a plastic gauze wrapper with his teeth.

“Christopher please, I don’t want to talk about or think about it,” said Zee and lay down on the bed. 

Chris placed a strip of elastoband over the gauze on Zee’s rear and lifted thick bed quilts over Zee. He began clearing away scant med kit debris and returned to the bathroom to wash away the pink stains from around the bath removing all evidence of the night. With a bloody towel in hand he picked up the med kit from the bedroom floor and eyed Zee’s apparent sleeping face nestled under the edge of bed quilts. Zee’s eyes opened and blinked with heavy lids. 

“Hey,” whispered Zee. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” 

Zee shifted slighting in the growing warmth under the heavy bed covers. “Better.”

“You want something to eat?” asked Chris kneeling down at the side of the bed. 

The pressure in Zee’s face forced his eyes closed. “Maybe later.”

“Okay, well er.. I’m just going to er.. get rid of this stuff and then I’ll come sit with you okay,” said Chris. 

“You don’t have to,” murmured Zee. 

“No. I don’t want you to be alone,” said Chris and rose quietly. “I won’t be long.” A pang of guilt shot through him at the sound of his own words. 

Berating himself Chris abandoned the bedroom and hurried downstairs. Fixing himself a caffine Tab from the contents of the hamper Garret had packed, he returned to the bedroom to find Zee sleeping. Dragging on a thick jumper from the contents of the chest of drawers he wrapped himself in a bed throw and took up residence in an old rattan chair with his feet propped on the side of the bed. Eventually he dozed uncomfortably, waking hours later to grey daylight pouring through shabby bedroom curtains with a painful crick in his neck. 

Chris eased out of the chair and hobbled stffly to the bathroom. Zee was awake when he returned. 

“Hey,” whispered Chris and knelt at the side of the bed. .

Zee blinked with swollen eyelids. “Is it daytime?”

“Yeah I think it’s about mid afternoon, maybe, I dunno. It doesn’t matter though, sleep more if you need to,” said Chris and switched off the bed side lamp. 

Zee traced the swelling on his face with tentative fingers that poked out from under the bed covers. “How’s my nose?”

“Beautiful,” said Chris. “A lovely shade of pink and green and er.. blackish stuff actually. You’re eyes look very puffy and um black, nice black eyes, well purplish actually.”

“Great.”

Chris smiled sadly and adjusted the bed covers. “Do you need some more pain killers?”

“I think so. I hurt all over,” said Zee as his hand disappeared back under the covers. 

“Okay. I think you should eat if you’re going to take some more of those things and then you can sleep again,” said Chris and gently pushed hair out of Zee’s eyes. 

“What sort of food?” asked Zee blinking slowly at Chris.

“Er.. I er.. well, I er.. have some Tab smoothies which—No? Okay, not those then. Er.. well I er.. have some, er.. let me think.” Chris racked his brain trawling through a memory of the contents of the hamper. “Actually I have some soup er… well bisque, lobster. Have you ever had lobster? No? It’s good, you’ll like it. I can fix you some and you can try it and if you don’t like it I can fix you something else, maybe er.. tomato noodly pasta-ish stuff or something, caviar, I dunno.”

“Soup.”

“Soup? Okay, soup it is and er.. well I’ll be right back—downstairs and if you need anything just shout okay. I’m downstairs,” said Chris and forced a smile. 

Zee poked his nose back under the covers and closed his eyes.

The remains of day dissolved in spoonfuls of lobster bisque which although at first required encouragement soon emptied a bowl and Chris gently changed gauze dressings and said nothing about the few worrying spots of blood on the bed sheets near the top of Zee’s legs. Zee fell into an Opiumol sleep and awoke hours later to a bedroom in shadows and Chris crumpled awkwardly in a chair next to the keeping a careful watch.

“Want some more soup?” asked Chris easing himself out of the chair and turned on the bedside lamp. 

“No,” said Zee and closed his eyes briefly against lamplight. 

Chris knelt down at the side of the bed and rested his chin on his hands. He slipped his fingers into the palm of a warm hand that emerged from under the bed covers and gazed at sad dark eyes. 

“I didn’t lie to you, that day, when you were angry,” said Zee quietly. 

“Don’t worry about that now,” said Chris as his chest tightened. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over, it’s, I don’t care about that.”

“But I didn’t lie to you,” said Zee. “I didn’t know you knew Red. I promise I never said anything to him about you.”

“Okay. I believe you, but I don’t care about him, okay. I’m sorry I accused you, and I’m sorry I hit you, I really am. You were right, I was being paranoid. If I hadn’t been such an asshole, you wouldn’t have been in that place and Karl—“ Chris bit down on his lip. 

“You knew him. You knew Smacker,” said Zee. 

Chris nodded and his stomach clenched at the sound of Karl’s monika. “Yeah. Kinda. I’d go to a club in the mid quarter and he’d be there. I’d hang out with him, drinking, Tabbing up. I didn’t know he knew The Cho. I didn’t even know he was working for him until that night at the House when you were there too. I’d never been there before.”

“I knew him,” said Zee quietly. “He was always around. That night, at the party, the one in the Vid-Call message you sent yourself, he came with us. It was the first night I met him and Red- The Cho – it was the first night I went to the casino House. Black was there too. There were lots of people. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I was really scared.”

Chris ran his fingers through Zee’s hair. “Don’t think about that now, don’t think about it. It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. 

“No. I have to tell you. So you know. We went to the House. I don’t remember seeing you but everyone from the apartment party went to the House so you could have been there, but I don’t remember you. I swear it. There were so many people,” said Zee. 

“I believe you, I really do,” said Chris.

“Red said he wanted me to get on the Group Circuit and drop the individual Circuits I was doing. I’d been On Circuit a month or so and he said I wasn’t paying him enough for the Locator. He said I had to pay more and the fastest way to pay was to do the Group Circuits. He said if I did, he’d put me on Top Circuit so I could make more credits. I didn’t want to do it. What I said to you about everyone you knew fucking me before you met me wasn’t true. I was angry and I, I didn’t mean it. Red didn’t put me on Top Circuit until after that night when I agreed. That’s probably why I did turn up on your search, but I was still doing individual Circuits. I was really surprised when you told me you lived in High Towers. I’d been doing mid quarter Circuits before that.” Zee sniffed and coughed. 

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m just glad I sat on the goddamn unit when I did,” said Chris. “And I don’t care if I was there or not. I don’t remember and, part of me is glad I don’t.”

Zee nodded a little. “But you need to know. The casino House, it wasn’t set up properly, but the wheel was there and Black was there too with Red. Smacker, he was there and that woman, the one the Detective questioned you about and who was in the Vid-Call message, she was there. I remember her,” he said and squeezed back as Chris’ hand squeezed. “I saw them. I saw what happened.”

A chill ran through Chris. “With Karl?”

Zee nodded. “Red selected a few of us who were On Circuit to do our first Group Circuit. We left and a few people from the apartment party, came with us. We all went to another place via Locator. It was a different apartment type house, big hall but no gambling tables as far as I could tell. The few of us who were On Circuit, were taken straight upstairs to the bedrooms and told to wait. That woman, with the yellow hair, she was there. Karl was with her and I saw her disappear down the corridor with him before I was taken into a room on my own. I think everyone was in rooms on their own but I’m not sure. I was on my own and I—one of Red’s party friends came to the room and I had to—he wanted—he fucked me and then he left. He left me tied to the bed. Red had said we were supposed to leave once we were done but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I called out, and I could hear people in the next room but it was a long time before anyone came into my room. One of Red’s men came, I think he heard me or something—I don’t know—but he untied me and left saying I had to get out. I got dressed and I left the room but I went the wrong way—I went the wrong way, down the corridor. I don’t why, I should’ve remembered—“

“Sshh it’s okay, it’s okay,” said Chris petting gently as Zee took a shuddering breath. He ran his fingers through Zee’s hair and inched onto the bed to lay down. “Zee, you don’t have to talk about this. You don’t have to think about this any more. If I wasn’t there it doesn’t matter.” 

“No it does matter. It’s important. I have to tell you,” said Zee and wrapped his hand around Chris’. “I went the wrong way, like I said, I was, I don’t know, confused. Scared, admittedly. I wanted to get out of there. So, I walked down the corridor and there were so many doors, I thought I’d never get to the end but then I saw these doors ahead and I—I don’t know I wasn’t thinking—I just went straight ahead and opened them because I thought I’d get out. But I didn’t. It was a room, and there was no one in there. It just had this huge E-Wall that was right around and there were recliners and load and loads of Vid-Call units and when I looked—the channels—I thought they were entertainment channels at first but they weren’t. They were the rooms. They were the rooms in the house, the bedrooms.”

“What?” breathed Chris. 

“I think—I don’t know—I think they were, I think Red was recording what went on in the rooms. When I looked I could see the room I’d been in, where I’d been tied to the bed, the ties were there and the—what he’d used on me was there too, so I knew it was the room. When I looked, I could see all the other rooms. They were empty, mostly. I think everyone else On Circuit had left.” Zee swallowed. “I saw her, I saw the woman with the yellow hair in your Vid-Call message. I couldn’t hear anything from the wall recordings, the sound was off, but I could hear voices down the corridor and when I looked at the wall I could see them shouting at each other. Black was there. She was angry with the guy in the room. They were having an argument. He was—well I think he’d been fucking the woman with the yellow hair. I remember him from the apartment party, he was with Red and Black, a friend of theirs maybe. He was really angry and then Smacker came in. Smacker hit the guy and then the woman with yellow hair hit Black. The guy left the room and there was shouting in the corridor and I heard Smacker shouting too. I think he went after the guy. When I looked back at the wall, Black and the woman were the only ones left in the room. She hit her. Black hit the woman. She really hit her. Not just once. I don’t know what she had in her hand but there was—Christopher there was so much blood.” 

Chris shook with mild adrenaline and laid a hand on Zee’s shoulder. “Are you sure? Are you sure it was the same woman?”

Zee nodded and touched his aching face. “I’m sure of it. Absolutely positive.”

“But she—it couldn’t have been her. I saw her in the café, she was all—“ Chris trailed off as an image of a glass lacerated broken body morphed in his mind. 

“It was her. I swear to you it was her. I stood there and watched it. I didn’t know what to do. I should’ve gone and helped her but I didn’t. I just stood there. I was scared, Christopher,” said Zee and sniffed painfully. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, don’t worry about that,” said Chris trying vainly to console Zee. 

“No it’s not okay. I should’ve helped her. I should’ve done something,” said Zee. 

“Well alright, maybe but, y’know, I don’t know what I would’ve done in that situation, so, you’re not alone in being scared,” said Chris. “And you got out safe so, who knows. If Karl—don’t even think about it.”

“He was there though,” said Zee and squeezed Chris’ hand. “That’s why I have to tell you. After I watched what happened, I left the room. I was walking down the corridor and Smacker appeared walking toward me. I put my head down and walked right past him but when I looked back—I really shouldn’t have—he was staring at the room with the E-Wall and then he looked right at me. I went straight down stairs and got in the Locator. He came to the top of the stairs and stared at me. I’m sure he knew I’d seen what had happened. I think he told Red too. I’m sure of it. I think that’s why Red put me on the wheel, with Smacker. I think he was going to kill me.” 

Chris ran his hand gently over Zee’s shoulder. “He couldn’t have done that, not in front everyone.”

“He could have and no one would have stopped him. They would have applauded and cheered and counted. You don’t understand. The wheel keeps turning until the bet breaks, until it’s dead. That’s how it works,” said Zee. “He was going to kill me. And then you did what you did.”

“Well that’s good then. And Karl’s dead and so it’s over,” said Chris urgently. 

“No it’s not,” said Zee. “You don’t understand. I mean come on Christopher, who pays 1.2 billion credits for a piece of Trash? Do you think he’s going to let you walk away knowing what you know? With me? And Smacker. He came to your apartment looking for you. Not me. You. He said he wanted a word with you. Red sent him, I’m sure of it.”

“No, no, no, Karl was angry with me because I stopped him having fun, that’s all, that’s all he was interested in. And he was angry with me because I did what I did for you. I paid The Cho, he wouldn’t come after me there’s no need,” said Chris and something unpleasant settled in his stomach. A memory of a white room with a bed covered in blood loomed and the idea his trespass existed on a Vid-recording became a creeping sensation between his shoulder blades. “Actually maybe you’re right.”

“I swear to you, he’ll do it. I know he’s done terrible things and Smacker would do things too I’m sure of it. Red has other people like Smacker working for him, people who take care of things. I know other Trash On Circuit who have gone missing and no one knows where they are or what happened to them. Christopher, I telling you the truth,” said Zee and squeezed Chris’ hand. “Please believe me.”

“I do believe you, I do. But they won’t find us here. No one knows about this place and no one is going to find out we’re here, I absolutely promise you,” said Chris.

“They’ll come. They’ll find us. They’ll look for you,” said Zee. 

“We go to the Police and tell them what happened,” said Chris

Zee buried his face against the pillow. “Christopher you’re so naïve. Police are Users too. I know, I’ve been with some. They’re just as bad, worse sometimes. That Detective that came to your apartment, I’ve seen him before at the casino House. I saw him talking to Red and he wasn’t there on duty he was there having fun. Everyone’s a User. Everyone uses On Circuit. Even if they believed me, do you think they’re going to let a piece of Trash like me spoil everything?”

“I’ll be there to back you up. I’ve got the Vid-Call message too remember,” said Chris vehemently. 

Zee shook his head. “It won’t make any difference. They’ll get rid of me, I’m just a piece of Trash, and then they’ll get rid of you quietly. No one will know. It’s a long way down to the Lowers, Christopher. All it takes is a faulty air car or too many Tabs and you slip off your garden terrace and you disappear. They can do that. They can make it happen. No one will find you and no one will know. And no one will care and they’ll keep on betting and spinning the wheel. And partying. And laughing. Place your bets, Black or Red.” Zee snuffled into the pillow and gripped Chris’ hand. 

Chris settled quietly beside Zee and stared at the dark ceiling. Deep down he knew Zee was right and the realisation settled like a ball of lead in his gut. He gripped Zee’s hand and stroked the bed quilts across Zee’s body gently until Zee quietened beside him. Listening to the sound of Zee’s snuffled breathing, Chris watched the night fade until insipid light bled through the curtains and his head pounded from lack of sleep. He left Zee sleeping, extracting himself slowly from the bed and padded quietly downstairs, shivering in the chill of morning as he fixed a caffine smoothie and retired to the lounge. 

Chris watched waves eat away at the sandy shoreline through the lounge casement window and sipped at his smoothie. The dead weight in the pit of his gut remained.


	9. Chapter 9

Dozing fitfully in the chair beside the bed, Chris woke the instant Zee’s scream ripped through the room. Fighting to control flailing arms and legs, he settled to restraining Zee by leaning heavily on the quilts and pinning Zee underneath. 

“Zee. Wake up, wake up, it’s a dream. You’re having a dream. Wake up, wake up. Listen to me you’re having a dream,” shouted Chris as Zee strained against him. His efforts earned him a smack in the face as Zee’s arm broke free from under the quilts and a fist landed heavily. 

Zee opened his eyes and looked wildly around the dimly lit bedroom. Blood and shouted chanting pounded in his ears and images of snarling faces were replaced by Chris’ concerned expression hovering over him. The strength ebbed out of his body and he flopped against the soft mattress. “I’m awake.”

“I’m right here,” said Chris tiredly. He flopped onto the bed next to Zee and rubbed a hand across eyes aching from lack of sleep. “Another bad one?”

“Pretty bad,” said Zee.

“What was it this time?” asked Chris rubbing the heel of his hand into his forehead. 

“The usual.”

Chris stared up at the ceiling and put a tight hold on his hopelessness. Zee started having ‘the usual’ two days after their arrival at the summer house and Chris had spent a week building sleep depravation. He lost track of the days, felt permanently sick and ached all over his body. Although Zee’s body appeared to be healing well, the otherwise steady decline was increasingly noticeable. Zee became uncommunicative to the point of monosyllabic and lost his appetite. The simplest of activities became daily confrontation taking Chris to the brink of debating whether or not to force feed soup spoonful by spoonful, or threaten the indignity of washing Zee in the bed. Any attempt to console was gradually rejected and Chris ultimately refrained from making any gesture of affection after Zee shrank away from him one night after ‘the usual’, and shied any slight touch thereafter.

Throughout, the ever present shadow of possible discovery at the summer house dogged Chris. He became aware of a creeping neurosis which gripped him in the form of checking doors and windows and conducting late night searches through the house armed with antique base ball bat. The slightest noise from outside or strange noises inside as the house cooled at night, feathered his nerves and regularly exhausted his Tab box. He began to doubt his idea of secreting Zee away was a suitable solution. The isolation of the house and bleak vistas provided little distraction, and hour upon hour of lonely thinking brought cabin fever. During the day Chris took to walking alone along the beach wrapped in as many layers of his father’s clothes as he could possibly wear against the cold and spent more time away from Zee than with him. Although enticed downstairs for the first few days where he would sit in silence staring into the middle distance, Zee had eventually abandoned Chris to his own devices and retreated to bed where he remained day in day out. 

Chris was convinced that in part, his efforts contributed to Zee’s current disastrous decline. 

Chris flexed his jaw testing the extent of Zee’s latest blow and turned on his side. Zee had presented his back, his usual brush off when Chris lay on the bed.

“I think we need to talk about this,” said Chris and listened to the silent response. “Zee, come on. We need to talk. We can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m fine,” mumbled Zee. 

Chris forged his resolve. “No you’re not. You’re getting worse. You’re not eating, you don’t want to get up, you don’t want to—“

“Christopher. I’m not interested,” said Zee.

“Exactly. You’re not interested. You’re not interested in anything. You don’t even want to go outside or go and look at the sea,” said Chris and propped himself up on an elbow. “Zee, talk to me. Come on.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” said Zee and dug further under the quilts. “Go back to sleep Christopher.”

Chris bristled and stared at the back of Zee’s head. “There’s nothing to discuss huh? Oh right I get it. Sure. Then you’ll have no objection if I talk to myself then?” 

Bed covers shifted slightly in front of Chris as Zee moved and dug deeper under the quilts. 

Chris nodded to himself and scratched at thick bristles on his face. “Perfect. Then I’ll be here talking to myself then, because after all, I might as well, that’s what I’ve been doing more or less for the past week. And besides, I’m not going to be able to sleep. I’ll be too busy patrolling the house looking out for whoever is going to turn up whenever and probably cut my head off, and yours, and put them in the disposer. Or waiting for you to fall asleep and then stand ready when you have ‘the usual’. Not that I care, I’m happy to be slapped and punched and kicked. I enjoy it actually. Oh really Chris do you like that? Yeah I do actually. I look forward it. It makes me feel good standing by and watching someone suffer and feel totally helpless not able to do anything. Oh wow, Chris, I must try that, it sounds fun. Yeah it’s great fun, but I know a better one, the feeling you get when you try to reach out to someone in pain and they push you away. That’s a little like having a slap in the face only it hurts more because it’s on the inside—“

“Christopher. Shut up,” snapped Zee. 

“I’m sorry, I’d love to chat but I’m having a discussion with myself here, perhaps another time,” said Chris. “Now where was I? Oh yeah, the gut stabbing feeling when the person you really care about pushes you—“

“Shut up.”

“—away. That’s—oh god that’s perfect, that’ll leave you feeling right down there and then on top of that you have to stand back and watch them drag themselves down into a pit—“

“Shut up.”

“—of despair that you can do nothing about except watch and wait and watch a little more and then—oh this is great, this is the bit I love the most I think—you know there’s nothing you can do. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Wow, that sounds great, Chris, I’d really like to try that. Oh you should, I highly recommend it. And on top of that, you can blame yourself for what happened in the first place. It’s perfect. It just keeps getting better every—“

Chris reeled as Zee’s lightening slap caught him across the mouth. 

“Shut the fuck up,” yelled Zee kicking aside bed covers. “Shut the fuck up.” 

Chris fell of the side of the bed sending the bedside lamp crashing to the floor and scrambled to his feet. “You sound just like him,” he shouted. 

“Shut the fuck up,” screamed Zee and threw pillows at Chris. 

“Yeah. Come on,” shouted Chris, punching at a pillow. 

The bedroom disintegrated into melee as Zee rose to his feet towering over the room hurling bed covers and made a ridiculously judged lunge at Chris. Chris half dodged catching Zee as he tumbled past and landed heavily on the floor in a swathe of bed quilt. Familiar with Zee’s physical limits after a week of ‘the usual’, Chris grappled with flailing arms and legs managing to straddle and pin Zee to the floor. Zee screamed in frustration. 

“Come on, that’s it,” gasped Chris and exerted the reserves of his strength as Zee tried to break free. 

“Fuck you,” yelled Zee. “Get the fuck off me.”

“Yeah. Come on. Fight me, come on,” shouted Chris and tightened the grip on Zee’s wrists as he settled his weight over Zee’s hips. Zee thrashed and screamed and kicked out futilely at thin air and the edge of the bed. 

“You can’t can you, you can’t fight me. I’m too strong for you. You’re losing. Come on, fight me if you can,” shouted Chris and blinked as hot tears squeezed onto his face. He could feel Zee’s strength beginning to drain and forced his grip tighter pinioning Zee’s arms. Zee’s next scream held none of its usual power and Chris heard the distinct sound of desperate anguish creeping through. 

“Come on. Try. Fight me.” Chris lifted Zee’s arms by the wrists trying to encourage and forced them against the floor either side of Zee’s head again when Zee made a lame attempt to break free. “Come on. Fight. Fight.”

Zee cried out. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Come on, fight me,” said Chris and felt the last of Zee’s strength vanish.  
He gulped air as Zee began to cry. “Zee come on. You have to fight this.”

“I can’t,” said Zee and twisted wrists under Chris’ grip.

“Yes you can, you can fight this,” said Chris and his gut twisted as Zee sobbed. “I know you can.” 

Zee shook his head. “No.”

“Yes you can you can do this. All you gotta do is—“

“I can’t,” yelled Zee. “I can’t, I can’t. He broke it.”

Chris settled in silence, shaking with adrenaline. The thin wrists under his hands did not even try to move as he slackened his grip considerably. “Broke what?”

“Me.” Zee sobbed. 

Chris stared down as Zee turned his face away. “No he didn’t. You’re still alive. You didn’t break, the bet didn’t break,” he said. 

“I am,” cried Zee. 

“You can do this, you’re strong I know you are. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Come on now, you have to do this and—“

“What for?” shouted Zee angrily. “For what Christopher?”

“I don’t know—for us, for the—“

Zee’s face contorted. “Because the bruises are going and my ass stopped bleeding three days ago?” he shouted. 

Chris bit back anger. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, I—“

“You think it’s going to go back to the way it was. That I step out of your Locator and you buy me food and let me sit on your garden terrace.” Zee shook his head. 

“No, no I know that isn’t going to happen but we can—“

“I don’t want it,” yelled Zee. 

Pain seared through the centre of Chris’ chest. “Fine. I’m not asking you to be with me, I—if you wanna leave and go back to the city I’ll take you, I’ll take you anywhere you want and, and, and—I’m not asking you to—but you gotta fight this. You can’t let this happen to yourself,” he said. 

“I don’t want it,” cried Zee. 

“Don’t want what? Tell me what you don’t want,” said Chris. 

Zee sobbed and pulled futilely at Chris’ grip. “Me,” he said.

Chris blinked in confusion. “What? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want me. I don’t want it. Every time I close my eyes it’s there, and every time I open my eyes its there,” said Zee. 

Chris watched tears slide down the side of Zee’s face. “You mean Karl?”

“No. Everything. Him. On Circuit. People. Everything. Me. It’s all still there. I can’t get away from it,” said Zee. “I want to close my eyes and forget everything. I don’t want to know what I am. I don’t want to remember anything.”

Chris slowly released his grip on narrow wrists. Pulling himself off Zee he sat in the pile of bedding on the floor and looked on helplessly as Zee curled into a naked shell and cried. Days of struggling drained out of him leaving him hollow and he rested his back against the chest of drawers and stared into his lap. Zee’s hushed sobbing changed to level breathing, and Chris drew scattered bedding over Zee’s sleeping form on the floor and quietly left the bedroom. 

Three more days conducted in absolute silence apart from ‘the usual’ passed and Chris spent most of his time sat in a chair downstairs watching the empty horizon through the casement window. The solution came, not in a brilliant flash that filled him with hope but rather left him cold and dead inside as he stared at rain against the window, and wondered if Zee would agree. He did not spring into action but methodically set about arranging what he needed. Two days later, he took receipt of the early morning transit delivery of supplies for the summer house and waited patiently until night fell and ‘the usual’ occurred. 

Chris tidied bed clothes, tucking in blankets to conserve warmth and sat on the edge of the bed. He watched Zee emerge naked from the bathroom, thinner than he had been the first time he had stepped out of the Locator.

Zee crawled under the bed covers. 

“I need to talk to you,” said Chris quietly and turned on the bed side lamp. 

Zee presented his back and dug under the covers.

“I know how you can forget stuff, like you said you wanted to,” said Chris and stared at the curling tip of a tattoo. “You can have it. You can have what you want.”

“Go to sleep,” mumbled Zee.

Chris reached down over the side of the bed and picked up an Info-Pad. “I’m going to take you to Mars,” he said. The Info-Pad beeped softly as he ran his thumb over its surface. 

Bed covers shifted as Zee turned over. 

Chris looked down into sad dark eyes sculpted with only faint bruising near their edges. He presented the Info-Pad and held it in front of Zee’s face. “I’m going to take you to Mars,” he said and watched Zee’s eyes flicker over the Info-Pad.

Chris leaned down to the side of the bed and picked up a bottle. The contents shifted slightly as he rolled the bottle in his hands and presented it to Zee. 

Zee snaked a hand out from under the covers and took the Info-Pad, glancing at the bottle in Chris’ hand. “What are those?” he asked quietly. 

“Green,” said Chris.

“Tabs?” asked Zee.

“Yeah.” Chris pushed the bottle toward Zee and received a vehement shake of a head. “Wait. I know you don’t do Tabs but just listen. They’ll help you forget and—“

“No Christopher,” said Zee and pushing the Info-Pad back across the bed turned over. 

Chris stared at the back of Zee’s head. “Listen to me. You have to listen to me. They can help—“

“No.”

“Listen. Just listen to me and then decide okay,” said Chris and the flicker of defiance in dark eyes as Zee turned to glare at him gave him hope some fight at least was left inside. “You’re supposed to take these to clear the effects of other Tabs out of your system, stuff you don’t like, sort of, withdrawal and—“

“But I don’t take Tabs,” said Zee and dug under the covers. 

“I know that, but just listen to me a minute,” pressed Chris and lay down on the bed opposite Zee. He pulled a finger into the covers and exposed Zee’s brow. Dark eyes remained resolutely closed. “Zee come on. Look. I know you don’t take Tabs but I think they can help you.”

Zee growled. “I said no, Christopher.” 

“It’s the side effect these things have, they get rid of memories. If you take ‘em the same thing will happen. They break down synapses and I dunno, scramble things up I think. I’ve never taken them so I don’t know for sure but I’ve seen people who have taken them and I swear, they don’t remember what’s happened to them. They forget.” Chris waited in the silent minutes that followed. 

Zee’s eyes opened and he lifted his head against the pillow. Chris appeared genuinely concerned as always and the remarkable blue eyes were earnest. He told himself Chris was a User. “I won’t remember?”

“I don’t think so. I think, you’ll remember some things but, they won’t make sense. It’ll be like, you’ll remember some things but you won’t remember why you remember them. Like a dream, but not like a nightmare. It’ll be broken up in to hundreds of pieces and say like, you’ll know On Circuit but you won’t remember why. I think it’ll stop the nightmares too but I’m not sure,” said Chris hopefully and as no objection came forth pressed on. “I mean, you’ll have to um, I dunno, take maybe 15 or 20 I guess and then—well we could try 10 to be on the safe side and then if that doesn’t work we could try a few more and see how it goes.” 

Zee snaked fingers out from under the bed covers and took the bottle out of Chris’ hand and read the label. “What’s it like?” he asked after a few minutes. 

“What do you mean?” asked Chris and tried to keep the hope fluttering in his chest under control. 

“Taking a Tab,” said Zee and settled his attention on Chris. 

“It’s okay, I guess. Depends what you’re looking for I suppose,” said Chris swallowing. “There are the Tab ads which are kinda weird and annoying sometimes. You’re supposed to focus on them, like in your head because that makes the Tab work better, and then depending on what you’ve dropped you get the effect, and side effects which can suck sometimes and then the withdrawal if you OD, which is worse, but I don’t think that will happen to you.”

“And you think I won’t remember?” asked Zee. 

Chris wrapped his arms around himself and tugged at the sleeve of his jumper. “Well that’s the side effect of Green so I don’t know for sure because you’re not taking them to get rid of Tabs in your system, but it’s sure to work the same, maybe. It’s worth trying, right?”

“Would I remember you?” Zee asked and watched the doubt in Chris’ eyes. 

Chris ignored the desperate pang in the centre of his chest. “I don’t know. But if you don’t, that’s okay. I’ll still take you to Mars, I promise. I’ll take you away so you can start again,” he said softly. “I’ll get you a new flex card. And if you want, you can choose a new name for yourself and no one will know who you are. I can afford it, it’s no problem.”

Zee ran his thumb over the cap on the Tab bottle. He noted the familiar affectation of unspoken need as Chris nibbled at a lip and the unblinking intensity in blue eyes. The dull ache sat inside his chest for over a week intensified. “Zachary,” he whispered.

Chris shifted a little and stilled. “What?”

“My name is Zachary. Zachary Quinto,” said Zee and watched blue eyes widen slightly with surprise and then burn with trust. 

“Hi,” breathed Chris. 

“Hi,” said Zee. 

Chris clamped down on the need to reach out and touch. “So er.. so do you want to give it a go? I mean the Tabs, do you want to try?”

Zee rolled the bottle in his fingers and popped the cap to look at thousands of tiny green dots inside. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he said. Blue eyes lit up in front of him. 

“Sure, sure, name it,” said Chris. 

“You lose the beard,” said Zee and allowed himself to smile.

Chris laughed cautiously as hope began to claw through him and tugged at the itchy growth on his face. “What you don’t like this?”

“It’s dreadful,” said Zee. “Definitely not you and, when you eat that under cooked burned pasta dish—which by the way I have no idea how you manage to create—the stuff sticks around your mouth and I don’t like it.”

“Okay, the beard’s gone,” chuckled Chris and snuggling into the pillow, trapped his hands under his body as a cautionary measure.

“And you never grow another one,” said Zee.

“Deal,” said Chris and smiled warmly. He watched sad dark eyes survey him.

“Go and do it now and then we can go to Mars,” said Zee quietly and tried to smile. It was all the encouragement required.

Chris filled his chest with new air. “Okay. I’ll be right back,” he said and scrambled off the bed. 

Zee hoisted himself up a little and picked up the Info-Pad as Chris bounced into the bathroom. 

“It’ll probably be a couple of days before we can get the passes for the next flight out, and what I’ll do is get you some paper clothes,” said Chris hanging in the bathroom doorway. 

“I’m not wearing sleeveless shirts, Christopher. And nothing remotely yellow,” said Zee and propped himself on a pillow. 

“Yeah sure whatever, you can choose,” said Chris and tried to keep a lid on his enthusiasm. Zee’s agreement and affability spread a grin across his face nonetheless. 

“The beard, Christopher,” said Zee and pointed. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it,” said Chris and dived to the bathroom sink. Running hot water he searched through the vanity counter and set to clipping tufts off his chin with blunt scissors. “When I get you the flex card do you want it to be under your name like, like your real name?”

Zee’s voice drifted into the bathroom. “Yes, that’s fine if you think it’s okay.”

Chris unpicked a razor packet. “Okay, that’ll take a day to get here because it’ll come transit as we don’t have a Locator here. But with the mini-Wall I can get the reservations done from here no problem. You want a window seat though right, so you can look at the stars?”

“Yes I’d like that.”

Chris grinned and lathered shaving foam over his face and soaked the razor. “We’ll get a private compartment too, it’ll have artificial gravity, which feels a bit weird if I remember but you get used to it and it stops the space sickness—well I got sick anyway because I always get sick flying, even in air cars sometimes but it’s better than economy where you float around for the two weeks it takes you to get there.” He scraped off the first thick swathe of foam exposing pink skin and glanced back into the bedroom. Zee was sat with the Info-Pad on his chest watching the bathroom door. 

“We’ll be able to have a bed too and then the space lag won’t be so bad when we get to Mars,” said Chris and smiled when Zee smiled. 

Chris turned back to the mirror and scraped another pile of foam away from his face. “When we get to Mars I’ll get us a temporary apartment there, it’s much better than staying in a hotel because like, who needs that. You can stay in bed as much as you want and rest and then if you want, we can go to Valles Marineres on a day trip and you can pick up a rock for yourself, as long as you don’t let anyone see ‘cause the Mars authorities are really hot on that, but anyway. We can go on a Saturn cruise too if you wanted to because once you’re used to the low gravity and the space lag then you get used to travelling about so things get easier. It’ll probably take you about, I dunno, three maybe four weeks to get used to low grav I think.” Chris swished his razor in the water and critically appraised the pink skin on his face in the bathroom mirror and the few narrow streaks of shaving foam left on his face. “I wonder if they do chicken noodle soup on Mars. Actually I could sneak a Vid-Call to Georgio and get the recipe—actually that’s probably not a good idea. Someone might find out.”

Chris drained the sink and swilled his face in fresh water. Grabbing a towel he returned to the bedroom rubbing over his face and crawled onto the edge of the bed. “I’m smooth, wanna feel?” he asked and leant close as dark eyes stared up at him. “Zee?”

Chris’ inside tightened as unblinking dark eyes stared past him in the half light from the table lamp. “Zee?”

Chris reached out a tentative hand and touched Zee on the shoulder. The expected flinch never came and he tightened his grip. The Info-Pad slipped down Zee’s chest into the bed covers and the empty Tab bottle spilled over the surface of the quilt as a hand moved.

Chris grabbed the Tab bottle in horror and pulled Zee upright. Dark eyes devoid of any emotion stared back at him, glassy and unfocused with pupils blown full locked in a Green eternity. 

“Oh god no. No, no, no, no. No how could you do this? What were you thinking?” cried Chris and pulled Zee into his arms. Listless movements in limbs gave no acknowledgement and flopped against the bed covers. 

Inconsolable, Chris laid Zee down. Unfocused dark eyes occasionally blinked. Laying his head upon Zee’s chest, Chris watched the gentle rise and fall of steady breathing and listened to a slow heartbeat.

“Fuck. You weren’t supposed to take the whole fucking lot,” said Chris and wiped away angry tears. 

*** 

Chris settled into the padded comfort of his seat and looked down the aisle as an air hostess closed the door to the flight compartment. The hiss of a vacuum seal accompanied a pop in Chris’ ears. A hologram of a clean shaven Prios Corps flight attendant appeared hovering in front of him as the space flight safety protocols were announced and Chris glanced around at other passengers. The upper class luxury afforded leg room, walking room and a wide central aisle that put Chris well out of reach of anyone’s intrusive conversation and he was glad of the silent minutes that passed. A small vibration travelled through his legs as retro thrusters ignited. 

“Do I know you?”

Chris turned to look at Zee in the seat next to him. “Yeah you know me. I’m Chris,” he said and gently adjusted the front of Zee’s paper shirt, rethreading buttons through their holes. 

Zee blinked slowly and looked back out of the window at diminishing ground crews sprinting across tarmac in blinding sunlight.

Fluffy white turned to miasmic blue and the G-force compensators in the cabin pushed against Chris’ chest. He gripped the arms of his seat and focused on his breathing. “Oh god, I’d forgotten about this,” he murmured. 

“Do I know you?” asked Zee.

“Yeah, I’m Chris,” said Chris and fought building nausea as he tried to smile at Zee. 

Zee blinked. “I feel strange,” he said. 

“Yeah it’ll be over soon, I hope,” groaned Chris and told himself not to shut his eyes because that only makes it worse and it’ll be over soon it really will. 

“What’s happening?” asked Zee and looked out of the window as pale blue began to arc against deepening black. 

“We’re going to Mars. You like Mars—oh fuck I think I’m going to throw up.” Chris reached into the side of his seat and grabbed a paper bag. 

“Mars?”

“Yeah Mars, you like Mars,” said Chris and stifled a gag. 

“I do?” Zee turned away from the window. The strange noise beside him was curious and made him feel strange.

Chris lifted his nose out of the paper bag and dumped it in an auto-cabin attendant which promptly appeared. “Yeah. You like Mars,” he said and slipped a refresher into his mouth.

“What’s Mars?”

“You’ll find out when we get there,” said Chris and groaned as the pressure against his chest began to ease. 

“Do I know you?” 

Chris leant his head against the side of the padded head rest. He watched dark eyes with pupils intermittently blown wide as another Green Tab dropped. “Yeah, you know me,” he said. “I’m Chris and we’re going to Mars and you like Mars, Mars is good. We’re going to Mars, and you like Mars and I’m Chris. And you know me.”

“We’re going to Mars,” said Zee and looked out of the window at the endless black. “We’re going to Mars. I like Mars.”

“Yeah you like Mars. Mars is good,” said Chris, glancing at a cabin attendant as she floated past in the zero-G. Zee was staring straight at him when he turned back. “Hey.”

“Hey,” said Zee and blinked slowly.

Chris took a slow breath as something inside Zee’s eyes flickered and died.

“Do I know you?” asked Zee and began unbuttoning his shirt. 

Chris nodded slowly and gently patted Zee’s hands down. He slipped buttons back through their holes. “Yeah you know me. I’m Chris and we’re going to Mars.”

“Mars is good,” said Zee and looked back out of the window. 

“Yeah Mars is good,” said Chris and closed his eyes as the pain inside his chest threatened to overspill. 

“We’re going to Mars,” said Zee and stared at the endless black. 

Chris unbuckled his seat restraints as the safety lights turned to green and waved over a flight attendant. 

“Yes Sir. Can I help you?” asked the attendant as she floated near Chris’ chair. 

“I need a little help with my friend here, I need to get him to our cabin,” said Chris and placed his arm across Zee who had already unbuckled his restraints. He floated up out of his seat as the zero gravity took him and watched Zee staring out of the window. “Zee come on it’s time to go.”

“Do I know you?” asked Zee looking up at Chris. 

The attendant efficiently assisted Chris to cajole Zee out of the flight cabin and Chris breathed a sigh of relief as the door to the private cabin he shared with Zee shut tight. Moving slowly as his legs adjusted to the artificial low gravity he relaxed into a narrow recliner and tried to let go of anxiety as he dropped a Calmer. 

“Zee come away from the door,” said Chris and rubbed a hand across tired eyes. 

“I want to go outside,” said Zee and scratched at the door panel. 

“Five minutes. Just wait five minutes,” said Chris and watched a paper shirt drop to the floor. 

“How long is five minutes?” asked Zee and scratched at the crawling sensations along his arms. 

“Not long. Come and look out of the window. You like that. There are stars. You can see the stars,” said Chris. “Try not to scratch Zee.”

“I want to go outside,” said Zee and thumped the wall panel. 

Chris scrambled out of the recliner and dug into his Tab box. “Here, take this and then we go outside,” he said and forced a Sleeper into Zee’s mouth. “We go outside soon. We look out the window. No scratching. Come and sit down.”

Zee protested lamely and staggered into a small bunk. “Do I know you?” he asked and sighed. 

Chris shifted a pillow behind Zee’s head. “Yeah you know me,” he said watching Zee pull at the edge of a brow for a piercing that was no longer there. “I’m Chris. I’m Chris, you know me. I’m Chris and you know me.” 

Zee rubbed his eyes and stretched out, diving fingers into the edge of his pants as he slung an arm behind his head. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, sleep time now,” said Chris and settled back in the recliner near the bunk. The sight of Zee stretched out in front of him brought an echo of a sofa recliner and a black sheet slung enticingly across a bony hip. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Chris slept in the recliner for the remainder of the journey to Mars and kept Zee incarcerated in the cabin. Zee’s temperament veered between periods of amiable and quiet as he sat staring out of the window into vast emptiness, to outbursts of frustration that left Chris’ nerves strained at the edges. Chris continued to dose Zee with Sleeper Tabs and Relievers, and gave private thanks that Zee’s sleeping hours remained undisturbed.

Upon reaching Mars, Chris secluded Zee in a large apartment in one of the quietest suburb complexes with views of Valles Marineres through the large arcing windows. The first few weeks passed in a regimental regime and Zee appeared content to stare out of the windows at the red dusty landscape watching air cruisers transport sightseers down into the valley or stare at the E-Wall. Chris kept the Locator locked at all times. Occasional glimpses of recognition in dark eyes that otherwise remained vacant gave Chris fleeting moments of hope though Zee continued to not to remember Chris’ name. When Chris found Zee masturbating in the shower one morning it was the first time Chris had seen any expression of libido since Zee’s last On Circuit Reserve at his apartment. He thought it was a good sign. 

Zee’s first initiated contact came after a particularly difficult day and took Chris by surprise. 

Chris’ sixth sense snapped him out of the beginnings of sleep and a presence in the bedroom made him sit up. His heart popped instinctively at the sight of someone silhouetted in the doorway and as his eyes became accustomed to the shadows, his breath hitched slightly as he recognised Zee’s naked body. As Zee’s arm moved, Chris’ attention dropped to the hand stroking an erection. 

“What’s the matter Zee?” asked Chris and propped himself up on an elbow against the bed. A twinge of worry gripped him as Zee looked around the room and settled a heavy browed stare on the bed. “You okay? It’s late, I thought you were asleep already.”

Chris got the impression from the way Zee moved across the room that the untamed animal was back. He shifted under the sheets and sat up as Zee reached the bottom of the bed. 

“Do you, do you need a Tab?” Chris asked tentatively and reached for the bed sheet as it was pulled off him. He held his breath as Zee crawled up over the end of the bed and prowled towards him on hands and knees. Daring not to touch, he stilled as Zee nosed across his stomach and gasped when Zee dug his fingers into his sleeping pants and tore the thin paper away. Chris instantly hardened as Zee buried his face into his groin and the touch of a wet mouth around the tip of his erection made him gasp. 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” breathed Chris and risked a touch on Zee’s shoulder. It was not refused and he grunted as Zee sucked hard and a tongue ran the length of his erection search for sensitive bundles of nerves. 

Light nervous laughter bubbled out of Chris mixing with overwhelming relief. He sunk his fingers into Zee’s hair and tugged instinctively as an oral rhythm settled and clawed at shoulders and braced arms as Zee’s teeth grazed. 

Chris’ hands took on a life of their own exploring across Zee and trying to find the patterns low on narrow hips that would bring pleasure. As Zee licked his way up Chris’ stomach and chest, Chris tried to shift on the bed to get better access to Zee’s lower back. His attempt earned him an aggressive shove and startled, he landed flat against the bed and held his breath as Zee stared intensely. 

“You er..you want to er.. be on top?” whispered Chris and snatched a breath as Zee’s mouth settled aggressively over his as if in answer. 

Chris grunted as a hand settled around his length and tugged roughly. 

“Zee please, stop, you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that” gasped Chris breaking out from Zee’s mouth and swallowed his next objection as Zee’s tongue delved definitely and teeth graze over his lips. 

Chris dug his fingers into shoulders and clamped down on growing pressure in his core as Zee pulled back and loomed over him. The intensity in Zee’s eyes stilled Chris and as Zee positioned himself, Chris held his breath as pressure on the tip of his shaft become slick all enveloping tightness. Chris’ breath exploded in a stream of inarticulate blaspheming as Zee settled and closed his eyes. 

Daring not to move any other part of his body, Chris ran his hands lightly across Zee’s shoulders. Zee began to move slowly.

“Oh fuck,” groaned Chris and fought against his body’s need to match Zee’s writhing. Reasons why not flooded out of him as he watched the evident pleasure spread across Zee’s face above him and a rising need to take control turned the moment into an aggressive tussle. Zee’s counter struggles heightened Chris’ desire. Taking the bitten kisses he received as encouragement, Chris pinned Zee to the bed and watched dark eyes closely as he sank into him. Leaning down to fulfil a desire in front of him, Chris released Zee’s arms and tasted blood on his lip as Zee kissed him. Nails dug into his shoulders as he slipped his arms around willing legs and braced against the bed. Doubt and remaining questions vanished as Zee captured his own erection in an urgent hand and his lips began to move in breathy incomprehensible need. 

Chris panted. “Don’t wait for me.” He watched Zee’s eyes widen in front of him and ran his hand around Zee’s rear fluidly travelling down the length of a leg over a calf and griped an ankle. He joined the barked release his touch elicited as his stomach was coated. 

“Christopher!”

Chris tried to fill his lungs with air and fought the pleasure pulsing through his cock as he grabbed Zee’s face and turned it to him. Dark eyes rolled as Zee gasped and turned rag doll limp under Chris. 

“Zee.”

Dark eyes fluttered open, glazed with pleasure and Chris searched for recognition. There was none. 

Chris collapsed beside Zee in disappointment and listened to heated breathing gradually relax and deepen. When he woke in the morning, Zee was not beside him.

Chris showered and examined the slight bruising on his lip and somewhat proudly, the pattern of scratch marks on his chest, thighs and back in the bathroom mirrors. He put on his usual casual selection from the wardrobe dispenser and padded out into the lounge. Based on the previous night’s encounter, the hope of spending the day with a relaxed and possibly more responsive Zee took a downhill turn immediately. 

Zee paced fractiously along the window arc dressed in his usual royal blue shirt and black pants and the moment he set eyes on Chris the demands started. 

“I want to go outside,” said Zee and clawed at the window. 

“You can’t go outside, the air’s not breathable I told you before,” said Chris and grabbed his Tab box off the lounge dining table. Crossing to the window he offered up a Calmer to the potentially dangerous animal.

“No I don’t want it,” said Zee and pushed Chris’ hand aside. “I want to go outside.”

Chris recognised the beginnings of a full blown tirade. “We can’t. The air’s not breathable. We’re on Mars. The air’s not breathable. You can’t go—“

“I want to go outside,” shouted Zee and paced furiously up and down. “I don’t want to be in here. I want to outside.” He crossed the room with long purposeful strides and slammed his hand on the Locator panel.

Chris leapt after Zee in hot pursuit. “No. You can’t. You’re not allowed.”

“Let me out,” yelled Zee and pounded the Locator. 

“Here take this, it’ll calm you down, you need it,” said Chris brandishing a Calmer and fought off swiping hands. 

“No. I don’t want it. I want to go outside. Let me out. I want to get out,” shrieked Zee and dodging away from Chris grabbed a coffee table and threw it at the window. The table bounced off the reinforced glass and onto the floor. 

Chris lunged at Zee and tackled him to the floor before he could reach the table and commit to another volley. Struggling against lashing fists, Chris straddled Zee and fought desperately for control. “Listen to me, listen to me. We’ll make a deal, you know, deal we’ll make a deal,” said Chris and took a glancing blow on the side of his face. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

Fists paused and Chris gripped Zee’s wrists. Wary dark eyes focused. “A deal?” asked Zee and pulled experimentally against Chris’ hold. 

“Yeah a deal,” gasped Chris and deliberately let go of Zee’s wrists and climbed off him. The tactic worked. 

Zee’s eyes narrowed. “What do mean?” he asked and pulled himself to a seated position. 

“You take your Tab, and we go out, to the er.. arcades. There are people there and er.. you could, I dunno, buy a souvenir from the gift shops with your flex card—you know you wanted to use it— and er.. if you wanted you could have some lunch and buy that too, for us. We could look for a noodle bar if you like. You like noodles, do you remember noodles?” Chris straightened the front of his shirt and watched dark eyes look him over. 

“Outside?” asked Zee. 

“No not outside, the air’s not breathable, but an arcade, under a dome. You’ll like it, there’s lots of people,” said Chris and glanced at the Tab box and scattered Tabs on the floor near the window. He crossed the lounge and began cautiously refilling the box. “It’ll be like going out but better, because you don’t have to worry about being cold or anything like that.”

“Now?” Zee got to his feet and crossed to the window. An air shuttle passed swiftly followed by a cruiser which drew his eye to a dome far below. 

“Yeah. You up for that?” asked Chris and took a deep breath. The tirade was averted but the animal was still fractious. “You take your Tab and then we can go. That’s the deal.”

Zee turned away from the window and strode across the lounge into his bedroom. He emerged seconds later brandishing his flex card and crossed the lounge to stand in the Locator. “I want to go,” he said. 

Chris swallowed and nodded. “Okay, deal,” he said. He grabbed his flex card off the lounge table and stepped into the Locator. “Tab first.” He offered Zee a double dose of Languid. 

Zee looked down at the tiny dots in Chris’ palm. “I hate Tabs,” he said and picked up the Tabs and licked them off the tips of his fingers. 

Chris waited for the Tabs to drop and punched an address into the Locator panel. “Okay here we go,” he said as the Locator hummed into life and dug into his Tab box for more Languid. 

The apartment vanished replaced by a bustling arcade. Zee looked up through a haze of Languid at the glass dome over head and the shiny advertisement pods that floated over the heads of the crowd. 

“Come on,” said Chris and offered Zee another Languid. “Let’s go and see if we can find a noodle bar or something.”

Zee automatically took the Tab from Chris and popped it into his mouth. “What’s noodle bar?” he asked and smiled as people brushed past him. Colour and chatter filled his senses. 

“You like noodles remember? Chicken noodle soup. Do you remember chicken noodle soup? It’s your favourite,” said Chris and exhaled with mild relief as he guided a pliant Zee along the arcade. 

“I do?” Zee stopped dead and pointed at a bright holotheatre frontage as the crowd swarmed around him. “Animals.”

“Yeah animals, you like animals,” said Chris and steered Zee immediately in the opposite direction as he followed the scent of food drifting over the crowd.

“I want to see animals,” said Zee and pulled under Chris’ hold. 

Chris dug into his Tab box and offered Zee another Languid. “Here have this, and then we go and see the animals,” he said and tightened an internal grip on nervous exasperation. 

Zee licked the Tab onto his tongue and smiled at Chris. “This is good,” he said and looked around at the crowd passing him in a stream of blurred colour. The urging at his shoulder moved him and he floated through a sea of smiling faces. 

Chris looked around for a quiet secluded area as he steered Zee toward a food gallery. “Shit this place is packed,” he said and dropped a Calmer. He began to doubt his idea for a deal was a good one after all. “Okay I’m going to find us somewhere quiet to sit.”

Ushering Zee toward the nearest food counter, Chris pushed his way to the front through dithering people and waved his flex card urgently at the assistant as his face met heat from the food displays. “Hi can I have er.. two er.. what is that anyway?” he asked pointing at something unrecognisable in one of the food trays. He glanced at Zee who stared at the assistant.

“The Special,” said the sweating assistant. 

Chris bit back an exasperated retort and glanced at the billboards overhead. “Aubergine fondue huh? Okay gimme two of those and er.. fries too, and—“

“We don’t do fries we do wedges or fluffies,” said the assistant and shovelled ‘The Special’ unceremoniously into two trays. 

Chris glanced beside him as Zee stepped around him and pressed a nose against the hot glass display. “Okay gimme a portion of each and er..some of that er.. what is that—don’t worry about it gimme two of those as well,” he sighed and wiped sweat off his brow.

“Is that eat in or take away,” said the assistant.

“Eat er.. no take away, take away,” said Chris and handed over his flex card. He took receipt of a large take away tray loaded with unappetising food and took back his flex card and stuffed it into his pocket. “You got any hand wipes or anything?”

“In the tray,” said the assistant and immediately began serving the person next to Chris. 

Chris pulled away from the counter lifting the tray over his head as someone pushed close to him. He stopped dead as milling faces walked past and looked around. Zee was no where in sight. “Zee?”

Zee pushed his way through the bright faces. He smiled as someone laughed an apology for bumping into him. “Where are the animals?” he asked. The person waved and laughed and he followed them until a loud advertisement pod caught his attention and he watched the blue strobe advert flicker over head. He blinked as a loud cheer behind him drew him full circle and a neon billboard flashed brightly over a dark interior beyond. The clicking noises from within drew him through the pressing crowd and he wandered through ringing and chiming machines. The clicking noises were drowned as another cheer went up and he stepped out onto a large floor filled with tables and chatting people. 

Zee surveyed the room and sniffed at the Tab’acco that drifted through the air. Approaching the nearest table he squeezed between two people and looked down at hands scattering betting chips across green baize. 

“No more bets ladies and gentlemen,” said a black suited croupier and spun the roulette wheel at the end of the table.

“Hello gorgeous.” A woman with grey streaked hair curled an arm into Zee’s. 

Zee looked down upon the woman. “Hello gorgeous,” he said. 

“Black-19,” said the croupier. 

Zee watched chips slide across the table. 

“Place your bets ladies and gentlemen,” announced the croupier.

“Are you going to play, gorgeous?” asked the woman and trailed a finger down Zee’s arm. 

“How?” asked Zee and picked up one of the woman’s chips. 

“No more bets ladies and gentlemen,” said the croupier.

Zee watched the wheel spin and the tiny ball fly around the edge. 

“You place your bet gorgeous, go on. I need a change of luck I’ve been losing straight for the past hour,” said the woman and handed Zee half her stack of chips.

“Black-42,” announced the croupier. 

Zee looked over the table as chips scattered and planted his feet as the woman pulled him and rubbed her leg behind his. 

“Place your bets ladies and gentlemen,” said the croupier. 

Zee watched hands swipe around the table dropping chips haphazardly. 

“What do you want gorgeous?” asked the woman leaning heavily on Zee’s shoulder. “Are you going to choose a number or just play Black or Red like me?” 

Zee watched the woman slide a chip into a black square at the side of the table. He smiled down at the woman and slowly pushed his stack of chips into the Red square.

“No more bets, ladies and gentlemen,” said the croupier and glared at the woman as she flustered with objection. 

“Oh shit. You weren’t supposed to put the whole lot in gorgeous,” said the woman and nudged Zee angrily. 

“Red bet breaks,” said Zee and stared at the spinning wheel. The ball bounced, flicked and rattled its way across dizzying numbers until it settled. 

“Red 9,” said the croupier. 

Zee staggered as the woman whooped next to him and pulled away from the kiss on his cheek. 

“Gorgeous you won. Red wins,” cried the woman and dragged the chips the croupier slid her across the table. “You’re lucky after all. What’s your name gorgeous.”

A flush ran through Zee. “I win?”

“Yeah you’re the man. Red wins,” said the woman and laughed. 

Zee laughed. “I win.”

“What’s your name lucky honey?” asked the woman and ran her hand possessively over Zee’s shoulder. 

Zee smiled slowly and stared at the spinning wheel. “I’m—” He glanced at the woman. “I’m The Rad Man.”

The woman snorted a laugh and pushed her chips into the black square on the table. “If you say so gorgeous,” she said and looked up to find she was alone. 

Zee gripped at the pain in his head as he staggered back out into the arcade. The pushing throng around him caught him and carried him along until he broke free and leaned against the side of a billboard. Light flashed in his eyes and he blinked away dizziness trying to understand what filled his vision. He pushed himself away from the billboard and backed through the crowd. Across the wall in front of him thin spires reached up into a blue sky and the billboard flicked with an advertisement promo. 

“High Towers, the place you want to be,” crooned an announcement. 

Zee glanced around him and allowed the crowd to pull him along. He walked bombarded by noise and shoving bodies and leaned heavily against a rail as piercing pain cut through his head. The world around him kept moving and he blinked and looked down at his feet as vibration fed through his legs. Billboards flashed past as the he took a step through the standing crowd and sudden momentum from behind pushed him tripping off a moving walkway into a bustling plaza. Lurching toward an information hub he hung on the counter as an immaculately dressed woman in a pale blue Prios Corps uniform greeted him. 

“Yes Sir, how I can help?” 

“High Towers,” said Zee. 

“The next flight is already boarding,” said the woman. “I’ll check and see if we have any cancellations.” 

Zee glazed as pain blurred the world around him. 

“Sir? Sir? I said I need your flex card Sir,” said the woman. 

Zee dug into his pocket and slid his card across the counter as the world blurred again. 

“Gate number 5 Sir,” said the woman and pushed Zee’s flex card back into his hand with a boarding pass. “Sir? I said Gate number 5.”

Zee blinked and followed the woman’s pointing finger to an information pod hovering across the plaza. He staggered away, pushing through swimming faces that blocked his path and tumbled through the departure gate. The empty corridor ahead of him eased the pounding in his head and the incline encouraged his feet forward. At the far end a smiling attendant took the boarding pass from his hand and ushered him into a seat. 

Zee clutched his head and closed his eyes. 

“Nerves huh?” said the guy in the seat next to him. 

“Shut the fuck up,” said Zee and winced as the compartment seal made his ears pop. Vibrations through his legs a few minutes later brought a wave of temporary relief and he settled back into his chair as an attendant scurried past and pulled him into seat restraints. 

An hour after lift off Zee waved the cabin attendant over. 

“Yes Sir?” The attendant smiled as she floated in the zero gravity over Zee. 

“Do you have anything to eat?” asked Zee. “I’m hungry.”

The attendant smiled. “Yes we do, what would you like?”

Zee blinked as a pain touched the inside of his head briefly. “Chicken noodle soup,” he said and smiled up at the attendant. 

“I’m sorry Sir we don’t have any soup, but we do have a prawn noodles today,” said the attendant and lost her smile as Zee’s expression darkened. “Shall I get you the noodles Sir?”

“And chopsticks,” said Zee and winced as pain flooded through his head. 

Zee blinked away white behind his eyes and focused on the gravity tray cautiously placed in front of him by a nervous cabin attendant minutes later. As he dug into the noodles and chewed his way through several mouthfuls he felt eyes on him. He glanced at the man sat in the seat next to him. 

“Are you watching me?” Zee asked, chewing slowly on a mouthful of noodles. 

The man blanched as dark eyes narrowed under threatening brows and looked away. “No, I wasn’t watching.”

“If you watch me I’ll shove these chopsticks up your ass,” said Zee and slowly clipped his chopsticks under the man’s nose. 

The remainder of the flight was conducted in absolute silence and not with even a surreptitious glance from the nervous passenger sat next to Zee. 

Having chewed his way through the entire stock of noodles by the time the space cruise had reached Earth, Zee disembarked and drifted his way through the crowded space terminal and climbed into a waiting air taxi outside. 

“Take me to the city,” said Zee as he settled against the back seat of the taxi and slotted his flex card into the bleeping pay unit. 

The air taxi lifted off the boulevard strip and Zee watched the funnels of ionisation from a departing space cruiser disappear into the night sky. As the air taxi banked into a swiftly moving feeder lane Zee leant forward in his seat. A few lights on the thin spires flickered in the distance and an incomprehensible sense of need settled inside Zee. 

The air taxi slowed as the feeder lane thickened with traffic and Zee looked out of the window at the buildings rising either side flooded his vision with colour. Zee pressed his hand against the taxi’s window feeling the cold feed into his palm and watched the mist of his hand print slowly disappear as he withdrew his hand. 

Zee gripped his head as blinding pain stabbed behind his eyes. 

A knock at the window brought Zee blinking out of oblivion and he looked up at the smiling woman standing outside the air taxi. Snatching his flex card out of the pay unit, Zee stepped out onto a bustling boulevard strip in chill night air and followed the drift of people through a portico onto an arcade. He ground to a halt as the throng pushed past him and lights from neon advertisements flooded his eyes. 

Blinking as the world blurred around him, Zee smiled at the smiling laughing faces that pushed towards him. Colours swam in front of him and the loud chatter of voices mingled with the blaring noise from advertisements and he looked up as a Prios Corps promo turned the whole arcade into words. 

“On Circuit,” crooned an announcer. 

Zee’s vision filled with thousands of happy smiling faces. One in particular caught his eye as it passed him in the crowd and he followed it, tapping the person to whom it belonged on the shoulder. 

“You want to hang out?” asked Zee as a pair of blue eyes turned and settled on him. He smiled at the smile on the man’s face and reached out to touch blonde hair. 

“Wow, you’re rad,” said a young guy and looked Zee over. “Sure why not? What did you have in mind?”

“Do you want to watch me?” asked Zee and curled his fingers into the young guy’s hand. Insatiable need pressed against the inside of his chest and he stared into the blue eyes in front of him. 

“Oh my god,” laughed the guy and sidled toward Zee. “Sure. Where do you wanna go?”

“Outside,” said Zee. “I want to go outside.” 

“Oh my god, this is totally rad, I’ve never been picked up on the arcade before,” laughed the guy and pulled at Zee. “Come on, let’s go to the strip and get an air taxi. We can go to my place.”

Zee smiled and allowed himself to be pulled through the crowd. As he shoved his way through chattering people out onto a boulevard strip, he dragged the young guy aside to the barrier and backed him against the wall. “Here,” he said and sunk his fingers into the young guy’s hair as he settled his mouth on the willing one opposite. 

The young guy gasped and laughed as Zee grinded against him. “Everyone’s looking at us,” he shouted over the blaring noise from advertisements and landing air cars. “Let’s get a taxi.”

Zee scowled and looked over his shoulder. “No I want to be outside,” he said and shoved the young guy onto an inspection gantry running alongside the edge of the portico. His actions were met with hysterical laughter and the young guy danced ahead of him. 

“You’re totally rad,” shouted the young guy and gasped as Zee cornered him against the gantry rail. 

“I like your eyes,” murmured Zee and ran his thumbs across the young guy’s brows. “You want to watch me.” He braced himself against the body that began to struggle and hardened his grip around the head in his hands. Leaning away as nails scratched across his chest tearing his shirt he locked his arms as he bent the body away from him and sunk his thumbs into yielding eye sockets. Red warmth ran over his hands as a scream was lost in the trumpeting advertisement jingle that bathed the gantry blue. 

Zee watched his hands turn black and let the face fall. Toppling the body in front of him over the side of the gantry he watched it fall gracefully through flashing neon until it disappeared into the smog hanging between buildings far below. Zee slipped his fingers into his mouth and licked off warm sticky residue as ripped off his shirt and smothered his chest and arms with remains of the residue on his hands. His skin turned black as billboards lining the narrow cut of buildings in front of him synchronised. Tab adverts bathed his world scarlet and ‘RED’ blazoned on every surface saturated his vision. 

Zee slowly raised his arms in triumph and laughed. 

_Place your bets, Black or Red._

*** 

 

 

_‘Off Circuit’ – Coming Soon…_


End file.
